In Too Deep

By Maureen Child

HARLEQUIN®

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

Chapter 1

The funeral was more like a circus.

Floral tributes in wildly different shapes lay scattered around the cemetery like forgotten toys dropped by a spoiled child. There were lasagnas made out of carnations, playing cards sculpted from roses, and a giant slot machine made entirely of lilies and daisies. The mourners had looked like a geriatric production of Guys and Dolls, and ol' Blue Eyes had closed out the service, singing a tune about doing things his way.

Now, news vans surrounded the small cemetery like a wagon train preparing for an attack. Sunlight winked off the lenses of cameras following people as they left the service. Reporters clutching microphones darted in and out of the crowd, hoping for a sound bite to flash across the eleven o'clock news.

Gina Palermo glanced at them from the corner of her eye, then shut them all out and looked down at the shining brass casket as it was lowered into the waiting grave. The show was over. ''Bye, Uncle Jimmy,'' she whispered, and tossed a single white rose atop the flowers already scattered across the lid of the casket.

Jimmy ''The Weasel'' Miletti, friend, honorary uncle and godfather. Pain rippled through Gina, but she battled it into submission. Jimmy had lived the way he wanted, and died...all right, maybe not the way he would have liked, but he probably hadn't been too surprised.

After all, a man who'd made his living as a mobster shouldn't have been astonished to find himself staring down the business end of a pistol. That the gun was held by his sixty-five-year-old former girlfriend might have given him a moment's pause, but in the end, did it really make a difference whose gun had fired the bullet that ended his life?

''How long are you gonna stay out here?''

Gina stiffened but didn't turn around. Jake Falcone. She should have expected to see him here for the funeral, but for some reason, she hadn't allowed herself to consider the possibility that he would attend. Whether that was because she was hoping he would, or wouldn't, she wasn't really sure. And she didn't want to investigate that thought any further, thanks.

She'd managed to avoid him during the brief service, but apparently, her grace period was over. Too bad, since the one thing she didn't need at the moment was to look into a pair of dark brown eyes that knew too much...saw too much. So she took the coward's way out and kept her gaze locked on the flower-bedecked coffin. ''Don't you have to be somewhere?'' she demanded. ''Breaking a kneecap? Beheading a horse? Making an offer someone can't refuse?''

''You watch too many movies,'' he said. She heard amusement in his voice.

Amusement. He of all people should have known she wasn't kidding. She was being facetiously serious. If such a thing were possible.

''Movies?'' she repeated, finally snapping her head around to give him a glare that would have fried a lesser man.

Naturally, it didn't phase him. There he stood, as gorgeous as some mysterious dark angel. His too-long black hair, gathered into a neat ponytail at the nape of his neck, gave him an even more dangerous air somehow. Thick black eyebrows arched high over dark brown eyes that flashed as he watched her. Sharply defined cheekbones, a strong chin and a wide mouth, now thinned into a disapproving line, all combined to make a man so damn handsome he should have been on the cover of GQ. Instead, he was the poster boy for Mobsters, Inc.

And her father's right-hand man.

Which was precisely why she didn't want a thing to do with him—the thundering race of her hormones notwithstanding.

He might be able to intimidate everyone else with his stony face, but Gina was immune. She turned her back on Uncle Jimmy and took a step toward trouble.

''You think I need the movies?" Her index finger stabbed at his chest with enough force to snap her fingernail. She paid no attention. ''This is my life here. The man we just buried used to sing to me and tell me stories. He drew pictures of bunny rabbits for me and then went out and did God knows what for the 'family.' So don't talk to me about movies, mister.''

He shot an uneasy glance at the two or three reporters who'd hung around the edges of the cemetery when their colleagues had chased after the last of the mourners. Scowling, he shifted his gaze back to her. ''You're putting on quite a show.''

Gina inhaled sharply and told herself to calm down. At the moment, the news hawks didn't appear to be very interested in her and Jake, but that could change in a heartbeat. And after all, she didn't want to be watching herself on the eleven o'clock news. It was bad enough she'd have to hear about Jimmy's murder again. And the never-ending speculation on just why Jimmy had been so far from home. Why he'd come to Sunrise Beach.

She was tired of hearing the litany of Jimmy's affiliations. Tired of wincing every time the name Dominic Palermo was mentioned.

And she was so tired of being tired.

''Go away,'' she said, anger suddenly rushing out of her like water from a tub once the plug had been pulled.

''Can't.''

''What?''

''I said, I can't go away.''

''Sure you can,'' she countered, waving one hand and only then noticing her broken nail. Sighing, she told him, ''Put one foot in front of the other until you come to that oh-so-discreet black sedan. Then get in, start the engine and drive.''

''Clever.''

''Hey, I went to college.'' Deliberately, she turned her back on him and stepped closer to the yawning black hole in front of her. All she wanted was one more minute. One minute alone to say her goodbyes.

She didn't get it.

He didn't leave. In fact, he stepped up beside her, and she fought the irritation snapping to life inside her.

''What exactly is it that you want?'' she asked.

''What I want,'' he repeated thoughtfully. ''Let's see. A place on the beach, world peace and a car that never needs a tune-up.''

''Great. Jokes. Just what I need.'' Gina reached up

and pushed her hair out of her eyes. ''I meant what do you want here? With me?''

''Just doing my job,'' he said tightly. ''Your job? I'm your job?'' She shook her head. ''When did that happen?'' ''When Jimmy died.''

Understanding clicked in her mind, and she didn't like it.

''My father sent you,'' she said, and it wasn't a question. Damn. She should have guessed. No way would Jake Falcone just show up, so far from Chicago. Not without direct orders from his boss. Dominic Palermo, head of the Coretti crime family.

And father of Gina Palermo, assistant district attorney in Sunrise Beach, California.

''Well,'' she told him stiffly, ''you can head right back to my father and tell him I don't need you.''

''Right,'' Jake said, one corner of his incredible mouth tipping up in a quirky smile. ''I'll do that. I'll just tell Dom that I took orders from you instead of him. Shouldn't be a problem.'' His dark gaze shifted back to Jimmy's coffin and the empty plot beside it. ''Maybe I could get the place next door to Jimmy. Looks like a good neighborhood.'' ''My father wouldn't...'' He just looked at her.

Gina sighed. She hated thinking about what her father might or might not do. For heaven's sake, how was a person supposed to go about her daily business knowing her darling daddy was a ''wise guy''? The father she knew was a kind, generous, funny man who didn't like killing spiders. But there was another side to Dominic Palermo, and she knew that all too well.

Her own mother had discovered the truth about her husband a year after marrying him. As soon as she'd learned that her husband's ''dry cleaning'' business was really a front for the mob, she'd promptly left him, taking her baby daughter home to California, to raise Gina far from the influence—and notoriety—of Dominic Palermo's world.

Dom had never really recovered from the loss of his family. But despite being separated by thousands of miles, he'd kept in touch with Gina her whole life. With Jimmy as go-between, Dom had followed every step of his daughter's growth. He had videos of every one of her birthdays and every milestone in her life.

There'd been a few visits back and forth, but mostly Gina had steered clear of Chicago. She didn't want anything to do with Dominic's universe.

And though Gina had kept her father's identity a secret for most of her life, she loved him. In spite of the fact that he lived outside the law and she'd made a career of defending it.

''Okay, fine,'' she conceded. ''You can't leave. But you don't have to shadow me.''

He smiled again, and Gina told herself not to react. of course, that was sort of like telling a struck match not to flame. Jake Falcone was not an easy man to ignore. Especially when every cell in her body was demanding that she pay attention.

''Look,'' she said, surrendering, if only for the moment. ''We can talk about this later, okay? Right now I just want a minute alone.''

He frowned, glanced around the old cemetery, then looked back to her. Nodding, he said, ''I'll be waiting by the car.''

A small victory, but at this point, she was willing to take it. Gina watched him walk away, and inhaled sharply. He walked with a sort of built-in confidence—or arrogance, she wasn't sure which. But either way, the manner in which he moved did something to her that she really couldn't explain.

With an effort, she pushed Jake out of her mind and turned back to the still-open gravesite. Across from her, solemn-eyed workers stood to one side, waiting for her to leave so they could finish up and head home for dinner.

But she paid them no attention at all. Finally, she was alone with the man she'd known all her life as a gentle, warmhearted soul. Jimmy ''The Weasel'' Mi-letti had been many things to many people. Police officers, the Federal Justice Department and no doubt the FBI had been after him at one time or another. But to Gina, he'd been simply Uncle Jimmy.

''I'll miss you,'' she said softly, and felt the sting of tears in her eyes. Silly. She thought she'd finished crying days ago. Besides, Jimmy wouldn't have approved of tears. If nothing else, he was a man who'd loved life—and he'd lived his precisely the way he'd wanted to. ''I wish you were here right now, Jimmy.'' She glanced over her shoulder at the dark-haired man still watching her. ''Only you would be able to get Daddy to call off his guard dog.''

Jake Falcone leaned against the black sedan's front fender. Crossing his feet at the ankles, he folded his arms across his chest and kept his gaze fixed on Gina. Even from behind, she was a showstopper. Great legs, now encased in silky black stockings. She swayed slightly in three-inch black heels that did amazing things for those already pretty impressive legs. The skirt of her no-frills black business suit hit the center of her knees, and the matching jacket clung to curves he remembered all too clearly.

He couldn't see her face from here, but he didn't need to be staring at her to see it. All he had to do was close his eyes and her features appeared. Wide, round eyes the color of good cognac. Her nose was small and straight, her mouth wide and full. Her skin looked sun kissed and her shoulder-length, curly hair was at least a hundred different shades of brown. And Jake remembered all too well that it felt like silk against a man's hands.

''What the hell are you doing here, Falcone?'' he muttered, then shot a glance at the last of the reporters as they gave up and drove away. Apparently they'd grown tired of waiting for Gina. Good call, he thought. The woman was stubborn enough to stand out there all night if it meant she could avoid talking to the media and to him. But sooner or later she would have to give in, and when she did, he would be here.

It wasn't as if he had a choice.

After all, when Dominic Palermo issued an order, it got followed.

Even Jake was in no position to say no to Gina's father.

An hour later, she was still standing at the gravesite. A sharp, cold ocean wind kicked up out of nowhere, carrying the scent of the sea with it as it dashed across the cemetery. Jake pushed away from the car and headed toward her.

Stone monuments jutted up from the earth like signposts in the city of the dead. Bedraggled flowers lay atop graves and fluttered wildly in the wind. The leaves on the trees rustled, sounding like hushed whispers from an interested crowd.

Gina was oblivious, though the wind tugged at her hair and flipped the hem of her skirt up with icy fingers.

Jake stopped alongside her, nodded to the workers still standing off to one side, and waited for them to move away before speaking.

''Gina? It's time to go.''

''I'm not ready.''

Stubborn. She got that from her old man. ''You're gonna turn blue in another minute. It's freezing out here.''

''I'm fine.'' ''No, you're not.'' ''Go away.''

''We've been through that already.'' She glared at him, and even in the late afternoon light, he had no trouble seeing the flash of anger in her eyes. Great. Just what he needed.

''You may take orders from my father, but I don't. I'll leave when I'm ready.''

Irritation bubbled to the surface. ''Then get ready,'' he said tightly. ''I'm not standing around here all night.'' He jerked a thumb at the workers, who were still backing off. ''And they'd probably like to call it a night, too.''

''Oh well, if I'm putting everyone out...'' ''Damn it, Gina,'' he demanded, ''do you have to make everything a struggle?''

She laughed, and the sound awoke memories in Jake that he'd spent a year burying. ''I'm making this hard?'' ''As always.''

''Don't,'' she warned, and held up one hand to silence him. ''You don't get to do that.'' ''Do what?''

''Pretend you know me.'' ''I do know you.''

The wind pushed her hair across her eyes, and she plucked it free so she could glare at him unimpeded. ''You don't know anything about me.''

''I know that you're going to make me regret this,'' he muttered as he bent, tucked his shoulder into her middle and straightened up.

''Put me down,'' she ordered, bracing her hands against his back in a futile attempt to push free.

''Not likely,'' he said, nodding to the men, who were already scuttling toward the gravesite. Heading toward the car, Jake pinned her legs down with one arm, to keep her from kicking with the pointed shoes she wore.

Oh, yeah. This was going to be an easy assignment.

Chapter 2

i ¿T

T his just is not happening,'' Gina said, shooting a furious look at the man behind the wheel.

''It's not my idea of a vacation either, princess,'' Jake assured her as he steered the car down the narrow lane that led out of the cemetery.

Maybe not, she fumed silently, but people weren't tossing him over their shoulder like a sack of potatoes, were they? He hadn't given her much of a chance to escape, either. He'd just thrown her into his rental— why did these gangster types always go for black se-dans?—then drove off.

Thank heaven the reporters had all left by the time he went caveman. Otherwise, the headlines in tomorrow's papers would have been charming. Mobster

Kidnaps Assistant D.A. Oh yeah, that'd be wonderful for her career.

Jake turned left onto the Pacific Coast Highway, and Gina stared out the side window at the familiar landscape. Sunrise Beach. Small, cozy, comfortable. Until he showed up. Now she felt as though she needed a city the size of New York just to keep from feeling crowded.

Row after row of narrow, tall beach houses raced past the window. Splotches of colorful flower gardens decorated the tiny yards fronting the busy street. Behind those houses, of course, were yet more houses, crawling right down to the sand, where they crouched like children waiting for high tide. Restaurants, everything from five-star dining to fast food, lined the busy highway. The sidewalks were packed with the usual summer crowd. Tourists, still cameras hanging from their necks as they clutched video cameras in sunburned fists, tried to corral children eager to get to the beach. Surfers, their boards tucked beneath their arms, headed for the water, where they were no doubt most at home. And then there were the new people in town.

old men in snap-brim fedoras, looking like ads for a 1940s black-and-white gangster movie. Younger guys, dressed a little snappier, but no less out of place, wandered in and out of the shops, and Gina had the distinct feeling things were only going to get worse.

''Why aren't they leaving?'' she wondered, and until Jake answered her, hadn't been aware she'd said it out loud.

''Leaving? They're setting up shop.'' She turned her head to look at him. ''Why?'' He merely glanced at her, then shifted his gaze back to the wildly merging traffic. ''Are you kidding? They're all after Jimmy's treasure.''

''Treasure? Jimmy didn't have a treasure.'' The thought was laughable. Jimmy Miletti spent money faster than he made it. Generous to a fault, he loved buying gifts for her, for his friends. And then there was the whole gambling thing. Jimmy never met a card game he didn't like. Unfortunately, the cards didn't care much for him.

Ahead, the light turned red, and Jake stopped behind a truck that was literally rocking with the blare of loud music and the crew of kids chair-dancing up front. He looked at her and shook his head. ''You don't get it. Your father sent me here because he knew what would happen once Jimmy was gone.'' ''What are you talking about?'' Jake sighed in frustration. ''Jimmy's been talking about his 'treasure' for years. Made a big secret out of it. Only said that it was here. In Sunrise Beach.'' ''That's nuts.'' Shaking her head, Gina argued, ''Why would anyone who knew him believe that? Jimmy went through money like...well, fast.''

He shrugged. ''He was pretty convincing when he talked about the treasure. And while he was alive, nobody would have tried to cross him. But now that he's gone, the treasure is considered fair game.'' ''So they're all coming here to look for it?'' ''You got it.''

She stared out the windshield as a thug in a dark suit crossed the street. The light turned green, somebody honked and the guy looked as if he wanted to pull out a gun. oh, perfect. This was going to be great. Her perfect little town was going to be overrun with the very gangsters she'd spent most of her life avoiding.

''Are you here for the treasure, too?'' she asked.

''Nope. I told you, I'm here because Dom sent me to keep an eye on you.''

''Why? I don't know where this fictional treasure is.''

He stepped on the gas and didn't bother to swallow the chuckle that escaped him. ''You still don't get it. Dom's not worried about Jimmy's treasure. He's afraid one of his enemies just might try to take out his baby girl.''

''So you're...''

He sent her a grin that zipped straight down to her toes. ''Just think of me as your own personal bodyguard.''

''For how long?'' she managed to ask.

''For as long as it takes.''

''Swell.''

The house was small.

Too damn small.

Plus it sat out on a point, overlooking the ocean. No close neighbors. No one to hear if Gina screamed for help.

Jake stalked around the outside of the place. The

soles of his shoes slid on the gravel and he told himself that was one good thing, anyway. If somebody tried to sneak up on the house, there was no way of being quiet on that damn gravel.

At least he'd be alerted before trouble actually walked in and said ''howdy.'' But this whole situation was trouble. There wasn't a single bright spot here. His job was in Chicago, not some dinky little beach town clinging to the coast of California. What did he know about sand and seaweed? Give him the Loop, the El and real Chicago-style pizza any day.

Give him a couple thousand miles between him and Gina Palermo.

This was going way above and beyond the call of duty. Reaching into his jacket pocket, Jake pulled out his cell phone and hit speed dial. As the phone rang, he turned his face into the wind and stared out at the ocean. If he looked at it long enough, maybe he could convince himself it was really Lake Michigan.

''Hello?''

''It's me,'' Jake said tightly.

''How's it going?''

''It sucks, that's how it's going.''

Dominic Palermo chuckled. ''Relax, Falcone. How tough can this be for a man with your...qualifica-tions?''

''Look, Dom—''

''No, you look. This is part of the deal, Falcone. You take care of my girl until Jimmy's death blows over.''

''When's that gonna be?''

Dom laughed again. ''As soon as those yo-yos remember that Jimmy never even had a bank account.''

Wind rushed at Jake, pushing at him as though trying to shove him over the edge to the rocks four or five feet below. If he had any sense, he'd jump. But then, it wasn't high enough to kill him. Just maim him so he would have to stay here even longer.

''You owe me for this, Dom.''

All amusement left the other man's voice. ''You'll get what you deserve. Just watch over Gina.''

''Yeah, yeah.''

''Oh, and, Falcone,'' Dom said just before Jake could hang up.

''Yeah?''

''You lay a hand on my baby girl and I'll have you killed. Capice?"

The dial tone ringing in his ear told Jake that the other man had hung up without waiting to learn if his threat had been clear. But then he hadn't needed to, had he? A threat from Dom Palermo was like money in the bank. Good as gold.

And even Jake got a little cold chill thinking about

it.

''So where are you staying?'' Gina asked as Jake sipped the cup of coffee she'd poured him.

''The couch'll do.''

''What?'' She shook her head, and worked her jaw as though her ears had suddenly plugged. No way had she heard him right.

''The couch,'' he repeated. ''It'll be fine.''

''You're not staying here.'' ''Oh, yes, I am, and if you don't mind, I'd rather not fight about it tonight.'' He drained the last of his coffee, then set the cup down on the tiny, two-seater wood table under the front window. ''I'm tired. Between that red-eye flight and the funeral, I'm beat. So if it's all the same to you, we'll argue about it in the morning.''

Gina watched him get up and head into her living room. And suddenly her cozy little house felt about as big as a phone booth. No way was she going to have Jake Falcone stretch out on her couch. Hell, she would never be able to sit there again without thinking of him.

Uh-uh. No way.

''There's a nice motel just down the road. The Kelp Bed.''

He winced and sat down on the couch. ''Yeah, that sounds great.''

''Damn it, Jake, you can't stay here.'' ''I told you, we'll argue about it tomorrow.'' He slipped out of his jacket, and Gina's gaze dropped to the shoulder holster he wore as easily as most men wore a belt. The shiny black stock of a pistol jutted up from the worn brown leather, and as he took the pistol out and placed it on the coffee table before him, she inhaled sharply.

''Do you have to have that thing in here?'' ''Wouldn't be much of a bodyguard without one, now would I?'' he asked, already stretching out on the couch and propping his heels on the arm of the

sofa, since it was way too short for his tall frame. Draping one arm across his eyes, he muttered, ''Now if it's okay with you, I'm just gonna get some sleep. Wake me up if you need me.''

In seconds, his deep, even breathing told her he was asleep. How did he do that? Turn everything off and drop into slumber in a second? She had a sudden, desperate urge to stand here and kick him. Instead, she stomped off to her bedroom, slammed and locked the door, then headed for the phone.

She punched in the number and waited what felt like an eternity for someone to answer. When he did, his familiar voice hit her hard. ''Dad?''

''Gina, this is a nice surprise.'' ''Tell Jake to leave.''

''Can't do that, baby,'' her father said, and she heard the reluctance in his voice. It didn't make her feel any better.

''I've been on my own a long time, Dad. I don't need a bodyguard.''

''You do right now,'' he argued. ''Jake stays. With Jimmy gone, things are a little up in the air.''

Gina plopped down onto the edge of her bed and gripped the telephone receiver tightly. Hearing her father's voice after the day she'd had was just a little more emotionally rocking than she'd thought it would be. ''I thought you might come to the funeral, too.'' ''That would have only made things worse for you, Gina,'' her father said softly. ''Besides, Jimmy and me, we didn't believe in funerals.''

''Well, he had a nice one, anyway.'' ''I'll catch it on the news.'' She nodded and plucked at a stray thread on her comforter. An ache settled in her throat, and Gina swallowed hard, pushing it down into a tight knot low in her stomach. ''I'm going to miss him,'' she said. ''Yeah, honey. Me, too.'' ''Dad—''

''You do what Jake says, okay?'' her father interrupted, his voice suddenly gruffer than it had been a minute ago. ''He'll keep you safe.''

''I don't want him here, though, and—'' ''It's not forever,'' Dom said quickly. ''Just do this for me, huh? Help an old man sleep better at night.'' Gina fell backward onto the bed. She had been beaten and she knew it. Her father wasn't going to pull Jake off his assignment. And she couldn't fight him when he pulled that ''old man'' routine. ''Fine. He can stay.'' ''That's my girl.'' ''In the motel down the street.'' ''In your guest room.'' ''Dad—''

''Gotta go, honey. You tell Jake I said hello.'' She inhaled, started to speak, then blew the wasted air out in a rush as the dial tone buzzed in her ear. Well, great. So the daughter of a Mafia don now had a hired thug sleeping on her couch. oh yes, and did we mention the daughter was an assistant district attorney?

Gina dropped the phone and scrubbed both hands

across her face. As messy as things seemed right now, she had the distinct impression that they were only going to get worse.

Naturally, the sheriff was Gina's first visitor, bright and early the next morning. He stormed past Terry, Gina's trusted secretary, and had the older woman flapping her hands in vain as she chased him into Gina's office.

''I'm sorry, Ms. Palermo,'' the woman said, giving the sheriff a look that should have toasted him. ''He just pushed right past me.''

''It's okay, Terry,'' Gina said, and stood up. ''No, it's not okay,'' Terry told her, still glaring at the sheriff, ''and he knows better. Shame on you, Todd Reynolds.'' Then, stiff with indignation, she marched out of the office and slammed the door behind her.

The sheriff scowled. ''I feel like she's going to go out there and call my mother.'' ''She might.''

He shifted his gaze to her. ''Gina, I don't know what's going on around here, but I've about had it.'' Well, she thought, that hadn't taken long. Jimmy had been dead less than a few days and already Sunrise Beach was up in arms. ''What is it?''

''Jimmy Miletti's murder,'' he snapped, and started pacing the confines of her small office. The heels of his highly polished shoes clunked hard against the wood floor, pounding out a rhythm that seemed to throb in concert with the ache pulsing inside Gina's head. When he came to the window, he stopped, flipped the blinds out of the way and stared down into the street. ''The damn FBI have taken it over.'' He let go of the blinds and they snapped back into place with a clatter. ''They say it's a federal case now. Because of the whole gangster thing. You know,'' he muttered, turning on his heel to stomp in the other direction. ''They've got him on interstate trafficking and tax evasion and God knows what else.''

Now it was Gina's turn to wince. ''They haven't 'got' him on anything, Todd. Jimmy's dead.''

''Yeah, but they're tying up that murder in federal red tape. And damn it, that was my jurisdiction.''

She was pretty sure she felt a tiny blood vessel pop, but maybe that was just wishful thinking. Sitting down, she rubbed at her temple and said, ''I'll see what I can do, Todd. But the feds are—''

He shot her a look. ''You don't have to tell me. I know what it's like to deal with the feds. Still, you're the D.A. I thought maybe you could—''

''I'm the assistant D.A., but I'll see what I can do.'' He blew out a breath and smiled while he nodded like one of those little puppies in the backs of cars. ''Good. Good. Okay, thanks, Gina.''

''Sure.'' She didn't know what she could do, though. Her boss would probably love the feds being involved in a case right here in Sunrise Beach. After all, the D.A. had plans that went well beyond this little beach town. He had his sights set on the governor's mansion eventually, and working with the feds could only look good on his resume.

''Oh and, Gina,'' Todd said, bringing her back from the wild tangle of thoughts pushing through her brain.

''Yeah?''

''Who's the guy sitting out in your lobby wearing a gun under his jacket?''

Chapter 3

once Todd left, Gina got a grip on the temper that was simmering into a fine boil inside and stepped into the outer office. Her gaze shot right to Jake.

Silent, stoic, he sat in the chair closest to the door, his back to a wall. From that seat he had a perfect view out the side window and a clear picture of anyone who might come down the hall toward her office. Well, if nothing else, he did his job well, she thought. of course, a man in his line of work was used to keeping his back to a wall and his eyes wide-open.

Slowly, he turned his head to look at her. Even from across the room the power of that steady brown stare slammed into her. And the fact that he could get to her so easily really made her furious.

''Could I speak to you for a moment?'' she asked, and silently commended herself for her restraint.

one black eyebrow lifted, but he stood up and walked across the room. Nodding to Terry, he stepped past Gina into her office. She followed and closed the door behind her.

He moved straight to the windows, grabbed the plastic rod attached to the blinds and twisted it, snapping them shut. ''Keep these closed, Gina. No point in taking risks, is there?''

''Great. So as long as I live in a dungeon, every-thing'll be fine?'' ''Pays to be careful.''

''Words to live by,'' she said, and folded her arms across her chest as she leaned back against the door.

''That's the idea.'' He flicked her a look. ''What'd the cop want?''

''Business,'' she said shortly. ''But he did ask about you.''

''Yeah?'' He smiled and perched on the corner of her desk.

''Yes. He wanted to know why there was a guy with a gun sitting in my lobby.'' ''What'd you tell him?''

She blew out an exasperated breath. Pushing away from the door, she walked toward her desk and stopped just opposite the man who was quickly becoming the bane of her existence. ''This is so not working out.''

Bad enough she'd hardly slept all night, knowing that he was just beyond her bedroom door. Bad enough knowing that she'd have to put up with him for who knew how long. Bad enough knowing that her own father had sent him to keep her from being killed.

But she wasn't going to let him start interfering with her work. And sitting out there with his carved-in-stone face was definitely interfering. Terry was walking around looking like she half expected Jake to stand up and start shooting. The kid who delivered her cafe mocha had asked for an escort past the ''scary guy,'' and Gina wasn't getting any work done because she knew he was there!

''Hey, I'm just doing my job,'' he said, and stepped away from the windows.

She rolled her eyes. What kind of person actually chose to live like that? To be wary of windows. To sit with his back to a wall. To not trust anyone, ever. But she knew the answer to that question. It was people like her father. People who lived their lives trying to dance on a razor's edge. People who woke up in the morning trying to think of ways to get around people like her.

''Fine. It's your job.'' She followed him with her gaze as he moved restlessly around the room. ''But my job is the only one I'm interested in here.''

''Big surprise.''

She shot him a look. ''What's that supposed to mean?''

''Nothing.''

He stopped and held up both hands in mock surrender, and Gina couldn't help wondering if he'd ever had to assume that position for a police officer. Probably. oh, good God.

''That 'nothing' means 'something,''' she countered, and tapped the toe of her shiny black pump against the wooden floor.

''All it means is your job is pretty much all you talked about when you were in Chicago last year.'' He gave her an innocent smile, but Gina wasn't fooled. There was absolutely nothing innocent about Jake Falcone. Dangerous, yes. Mysterious, you bet. Sexy, oh yeah. But innocent? Not a chance.

Besides, she knew what he was doing, and she wasn't going to go along with it. ''I don't want to talk about last year.''

''Why not? Make you nervous?'' If she could read his eyes, she'd feel a lot better about where this conversation was headed. But he was a damn mystery. Just like always.

Just like last year, when she'd first run into him at her father's home. Then, she'd been foolish enough to let the mystery dazzle her. But the plain truth was she didn't want mystery. She wanted a regular guy. Someone who obeyed the law. Someone whose face she stood a pretty decent chance of never seeing on a post office wall.

''No,'' she said stiffly, and walked across the room to her desk. She came within arm's reach of him— mostly to prove to herself that she could be that close to him without dissolving. Then she sat down on the uncomfortable maroon chair behind her desk. In control again, she folded her hands atop an open file folder, looked up at him and said, ''I just don't see the point in opening up the past for discussion.'' ''You wouldn't,'' he said with a snort. A sweep of hot color rushed up her throat and filled her cheeks. She felt it, so she knew he could see it, damn it. ''Just because I don't want to talk about an old mistake—''

''That's not how you felt then,'' he reminded her. But Gina didn't need reminding. Heck, every time she closed her eyes at night, she relived the two weeks she'd spent in Chicago last summer. And since he'd hit town, the dreams were only more vivid. Surround sound. The-hills-were-alive kind of real. Oh, yeah.

Her memory was perfect, unfortunately. ''Jake, what are you trying to do?'' He stared into her eyes for a long, heart-fluttering minute. Sixty seconds never ticked past so slowly. She heard a fly buzzing against the windowpane behind her. She heard the creak of the floorboards as her chair rolled a half inch. She could have sworn she heard the second hand on her wristwatch ticking, and she was pretty sure she heard the staccato beat of her own heart. He leaned closer. She took a breath and held it.

His gaze moved over her features.

Gina's stomach pitched wildly.

Then he blinked and the moment was over. Pushing away from her desk, he shoved his hands into his pants pockets and walked the room. Letting his gaze slide across the framed diplomas and commendations, he said, ''Sorry. Guess I'm a little restless.''

Air whooshed out of her and she sucked in another deep breath to try to steady herself again. oh, this was not a good thing. She'd thought Jake was behind her. Those wild, racing feelings she'd discovered on her last trip to Chicago had scared her enough that she'd cut short her visit with her father and raced back to California. One night with Jake and she'd almost been willing to forget all about her scruples. Forget the fact that she was an attorney. Forget the fact that he was, like her father, a mob guy.

And she couldn't let that happen. She'd had to run before her hormones had overcome her common sense.

But now here he was again, and just looking at him was enough to stir old feelings. To entice her with thoughts of what might have been.

''This is a good picture of you.''

''Hmm? What?'' She came up out of her thoughts gratefully and looked across the room. Jake was staring at one of the framed newspaper articles, leaning in until his nose practically pressed against the glass.

''Impressive,'' he said, and the word was whispered, almost as if he didn't really want her to hear him. ''You nailed a guy who'd committed forty bank jobs?''

A flicker of pride shot through her, but Gina didn't let it show. ''It was a team effort,'' she said, although she couldn't help remembering all of the hours she'd put into that case. How many nights she'd spent here, in her office, alone with the case files and a bag of Chinese takeout! But it had been worth it. The case had gone to trial airtight, and the Panty Hose Bandit was now doing a sentence of twenty-five to thirty years.

''The guy doesn't look real happy with you in this picture,'' Jake commented.

''I guess not,'' she admitted. ''Actually, he was my first threat.'' Jake swiveled his head slowly. ''What?'' ''Him,'' Gina said. ''The Panty Hose Bandit was the first guy to threaten me from prison.''

''You say that as if it's no big deal,'' he said. ''Well,'' she pointed out, ''he is in prison.'' ''He could have friends.'' Now she laughed shortly. ''Not likely.'' ''Guys willing to do him a favor, then,'' Jake said, and straightened up, turning to face her with an unreadable expression on his face.

She opened her mouth to argue, thought better of it and asked instead, ''Is there a point to this?'' ''Sure, but you won't like it.'' ''Haven't liked much in the last few days,'' Gina said. ''Try me.''

''Okay. Maybe your dad sending me here was a better idea than you think.''

''Oh, now I'm fascinated,'' she lied. ''Go on.'' One corner of Jake's mouth quirked into a brief shadow of a smile, then flattened out again in a humorless line. ''Think about it. You've got a little town in the middle of nowhere—''

''Southern California is hardly the middle of nowhere,'' she argued.

''It ain't Chicago,'' he snapped. ''Anyway, you've got this little town suddenly crawling with...'' He paused. ''How do I put this? Colorful characters...'' Gina choked out a laugh.

''What better time,'' he said, his voice dropping to a near growl, ''for some clown doing his time in prison to take a shot at the D.A. who put him there?'' ''Nice attempt at scaring me,'' Gina said, and stood up. ''But it won't work. How would the guys in the lockup know about Jimmy and...?'' Her voice trailed off. Okay, that was a dumb question.

''Uh-huh,'' Jake said, nodding as comprehension dawned on her features. ''These days, most prisons are better equipped than some hotels. Color TV, with satellite dish. Gyms, saunas—you name it, a guy in the joint can find it. Even if it's only a way to get even from behind bars.''

Gina swallowed hard, but it didn't dissolve the sudden knot in her stomach.

''So I'm guessing,'' Jake continued as he walked back toward her, ''that all of the guys you sent up

over the years know exactly what's going on around here. And just who to call to ask a favor.'' ''You are trying to scare me.'' ''How am I doing?''

''Pretty good,'' she admitted quietly. ''Okay, fine. I didn't really think about any of what you just said. But even if you're right, I can't have a bodyguard forever.'' As she spoke, she stiffened her spine and straightened her shoulders. She'd known when she took this job that there were risks. After all, they didn't call them ''bad guys'' for nothing. ''I won't live the rest of my life afraid to do my job.'' ''Good for you.'' ''Huh?''

Jake shrugged, gave her a brief, tight smile and said, ''You're stubborn. I like that. You've got nerves of steel. I like that, too.'' He gave her a slow onceover that set off sparklerlike sizzles of heat inside her. ''In fact, you're a lot like your old man.''

Gina scowled at him. ''I love my father, but I'm not like him.''

''You might be surprised.'' ''I don't think so,'' she said, and heard the ice in her voice. Dominic Palermo was her dad. She loved him. She couldn't change that and wouldn't want to. But their worlds were two very different places—and it was best if Jake remembered that.

''Your dad's a good guy,'' Jake said softly. Her gaze snapped up to his. ''Of course you would say that. You work for him. But he's not one of the

good guys. As much as I wish he were....'' Her voice trailed off wistfully.

She'd spent a lot of time over the years wishing that her dad was more like her friends' fathers. But then she'd had to grow up and accept the fact that Dom wasn't going to change. He was who he was, and she either had to accept that and love him anyway or cut him out of her life.

''He sent me here to you, didn't he?''

''Yes,'' she said, and smiled in spite of the fact that only a few minutes ago she'd been furious about her father's interference. ''That doesn't change anything, though. He sent you here because I'm his daughter. But he's still...''

''The enemy?''

''Not mine,'' she said quickly, thankful that she lived thousands of miles from Dom's empire. It was the main reason she'd never considered moving to Chicago. She didn't want to put herself in the position of having to face her own father across a courtroom.

As it was, every time one of the old-time gangsters was taken to court, Gina fought her own private demons. As a D.A., she supported and defended the law. As a daughter, she was terrified to think that one day she might be going to visit her dad in prison.

Oh, in the world of crime, Dom was probably a small fish compared to some of his colleagues. But size didn't matter to the Justice Department. And sooner or later, they'd be going after Dom, just as they'd gone after all the rest.

''You worry too much,'' Jake said suddenly, and Gina inhaled sharply. He was much closer than he had been a minute ago. He'd moved in on her—si-lently, stealthily—and his nearness now nearly cut off her breath.

He lifted one hand and smoothed the spot between her eyebrows. ''There's a line here that wasn't there last year.''

''Gee, thanks,'' she said. Nothing like having Adonis point out your wrinkles.

He smiled again and in that one flashing, brilliant second, she was pathetically grateful that he smiled so seldom. Otherwise, she'd be in real trouble.

''Don't worry about that,'' he said, his voice a low, throaty whisper that made her think of all sorts of things that she really shouldn't be thinking. ''You still look great, Gina.'' ''Jake...''

''Hey, what am I, blind?'' he asked, letting his hand drop and taking a step back. ''Just because I can't touch doesn't mean I don't look.''

one heartbeat, then two, passed before she said, ''Jake, we can't do this.'' ''We're not doing anything, Gina.'' ''This is just too hard. Too weird.'' ''Maybe, but it's necessary. Hell, you just admitted I was right about a possible threat to you.'' ''Yes, but that's part of my job.'' ''And watching out for you is part of mine.'' Okey dokey. That mind-splitting headache was

back and it had brought friends this time. Rubbing her temple with the tips of her fingers, Gina told herself to try logic.

''You're a distraction, Jake. One I don't need.'' ''I'll stay out of your way.'' ''Just sitting out there, you're causing trouble.'' She waved one hand toward the outer office, where he'd spent the morning sitting like some carved-out-of-stone dark avenger. ''I had to tell the sheriff that you're a private investigator.''

He laughed. ''Yeah? Did he buy it?'' Remembering the look on Todd's face, she shook her head. ''I don't think so.'' ''Not surprising.'' ''And you make Terry nervous.'' Irritation dashed across Jake's features. ''I'll have a talk with her.''

''She won't like that, either.'' ''I don't know what to tell you, Gina. But I'm not going away.''

Head pounding, she nodded, accepting defeat, for the moment. She would try to come up with something later. For right now, she just wanted about sixty aspirin and a tall glass of water.

''You're too tense,'' he muttered, and reaching out, he spun her around until her back was to him.

She stiffened instinctively and tried to pull away from him. But as she had reason to know, Jake was too strong to let her get away if he didn't want her to.

''What are you doing?'' ''Can you just relax for a second?'' ''Oh, sure,'' she said snidely. ''No problem. Let me make a note to myself. Jake says relax." ''Man, what a mouth you have on you.'' ''You're one to talk.'' She made a break for it again and grumbled under her breath when she didn't move an inch. His fingers were like a vise grip on her upper arms. And until he got tired of playing Neanderthal, she was stuck. Of course, she could just stomp one of her three-inch heels into the arch of his foot....

His hands moved, slapping down on her shoulders. ''Tense,'' he muttered again.

''Gee, wonder why?'' she snapped. ''You've spent the last several minutes pointing out to me what an excellent target I am. The sheriff's going nuts because the FBI is playing in his sandbox. My father sent a hired gun to baby-sit me... Ow."

His strong fingers dug into the too-tight muscles of her shoulders, and Gina wanted to weep. Pain shimmered brightly behind her closed eyes, but at the same time, a weird sense of relief washed over her, too. As his hands worked at the knots in her muscles, she felt herself slowly loosening up. Relaxing. Tension drained away and puddled at her feet. Maybe it would be all right. Maybe she could survive Jake being here without doing something stupid like sleeping with him. Again. Maybe this would all blow over and she could get back to her normal, everyday, humdrum life—

Suddenly a rock smashed through the window. It just missed Gina and shards of glass tinkled to the floor like some demented set of wind chimes.

Chapter 4

Get down!'' Jake grabbed Gina and threw her to the floor. Falling on top of her, he tossed a quick glance at the fist-size chunk of rock skittering across the gleaming wood floor.

Damn it.

''What happened?'' Gina asked, her voice muffled against his chest.

Before he could answer, the door opened. ''Ms. Palermo? Are you all right?'' Terry hurried into the room and skidded to a stop when she saw the two people huddled on the floor.

''Get out!'' Jake shouted, and to give the woman her due, shocked or not, she did just that, slamming the door behind her.

Good. He didn't need to have his attention diverted. Raising himself slightly, he looked down at Gina and whispered, ''Just stay put for a minute, okay? I want to check things out.''

She nodded, and it was almost enough to convince him of miracles. Almost. But knowing Gina, she wouldn't be still for long, so he had to take advantage of the stunned surprise keeping her quiet. Slowly, he lifted his head to look at the window. The blinds were twisted, hanging weirdly from the cords, and jagged pieces of glass lay scattered across the top of Gina's desk and the floor below.

A close call. Too damn close. Gritting his teeth, he moved off of her and crawled toward the window.

''Do you see anything?''

''Not yet,'' he muttered with a quick look at her. Hadn't taken her long to work past the shock. ''Now stay put.''

She rolled over, braced herself on her elbows and flipped her hair out of her eyes. He saw defiance written in their depths, and almost groaned.

Scowling at him, Gina said, ''I'm not going to stay crouched on my floor like—''

''You damn sure are,'' he said tightly. That hard jolt of panic that had shot through him at the same speed as the damn rock was still with him. The projectile had just missed her, and he couldn't help thinking about what might have happened if he hadn't been in her office. If she'd been sitting at her desk working rather than standing up arguing with him, or if it had been a bullet that had come through the window instead.

A cold, black rage suddenly poured through him, overwhelming the fear, shoving it down into the pit of his stomach where he knew it would live a long life. Getting to his feet, he kept his back flat against the wall and used his fingertips to move the blinds aside. His practiced gaze swept the parking lot and surrounding area.

Not a soul to be seen. The sun was shining, palm trees swaying in a gentle breeze. Whoever had tossed that rock had done the job and then split. They could be anywhere by now. Dropping the blinds again, he turned back to Gina and wasn't even surprised to see her standing beside her desk.

Glaring down at the bits of glass dotting her paperwork like diamonds sparkling in the sunlight, she said, ''Who would do this?''

''The list is pretty much endless,'' he said. But he'd try to narrow it down. Talk to people. See if anyone had seen something. Chances were slim, but it was worth a shot. He wasn't about to let this incident slide by. He couldn't afford to. Rocks could escalate to something more deadly.

The office door opened a crack and Terry stuck her face in. ''All clear?''

Gina gave her a tight smile. ''It's okay, Terry. Just a broken window. No serious damage.''

The older woman's glance flicked between Gina and Jake. Her expression told him she wasn't buying that explanation, but all she said was, ''I'll call maintenance,'' before she slipped out again.

''Not serious, huh?'' Jake demanded, feeling the swell of anger building inside him again.

''It was a rock.'' Gina bent to pick it up and clutched it tightly, her fingers digging into its rough edges. Small chunks crumbled off and dropped to the floor.

''This time,'' he snarled. He stared hard into her eyes before he added, ''But it could just as easily have been a bullet.''

That word hung in the air between them for a long second before it hit home with her.

''God.'' She looked at the rock again, as if imagining it a lot smaller and a lot more pointed. Then she suddenly dropped it. ''Fingerprints. Damn it, I should have known better.''

Jake shook his head. He'd already thought of that and discounted it. ''Can't get prints off a rock. Too rough. Uneven.''

''Of course. You're right. I knew that.'' She closed her eyes briefly and took several long, deep breaths. He knew what that was like. She was fighting the adrenaline surge, trying to get her system back into line. It wasn't easy, but Gina was a strong woman. She would make it.

Jake walked past her, snatched up the rock again and tossed it up and down as he would a baseball. Heavy. Solid.

He looked at Gina. Her hair was a wild tangle of curls framing her pale face. Her eyes were wide, and despite her air of bravado, there were shadows in those golden-brown depths. And he wanted to go find the bastard who'd put them there and beat the hell out of him. It wouldn't do her any good, but it'd make him feel a hell of a lot better.

''I'll, uh, call the sheriff,'' she said, but made no move to grab the phone.

''I'll do some looking around, too,'' Jake told her, and fisted his hands at his sides to keep from reaching for her. Caring for her wasn't in the game plan. This was just another assignment. She was just another assignment. It had to be that way.

Hell, he'd learned his lesson last year, when she'd visited her father in Chicago. Images he'd spent the last year trying to bury skittered through his mind in rapid succession. Attraction had sizzled between them from the first time they'd laid eyes on each other. And over the course of a few days, Jake had just about forgotten everything. His career. His position in the Palermo ''family.'' Even about old Dom himself. All he'd been able to think about was Gina.

It had been the same for her. He'd seen it in her eyes. She hadn't expected what they'd found together any more than he had. But the morning after their one amazing night of lovemaking a year ago, she'd grabbed her suitcase and headed for the airport. At the time, he'd been furious. But when his hormones dropped to a normal level and his brain had taken over...he'd realized she was right.

The sex was amazing, but it didn't change the facts. She was on one side of a fence and he was on the other.

Still, being with her again was harder than he'd thought it would be. They hadn't seen each other in more than a year. He'd expected that wild rush of need to have disappeared. Yet here it was again, as strong as ever and just as demanding.

''No, don't.'' She spoke up, and Jake let the memories slide into the past, where he planned to keep them. Gina shook her head and looked at him. ''I mean, let the sheriff take care of this. You shouldn't be getting noticed anyway, right?''

''Worried about me?'' He slid magically back into the ironic, lazy attitude he wore like a shield.

''No.'' She laughed shortly. ''Worrying about you would be pointless in your line of work, wouldn't it? It's just—'' Gina reached up to scoop one hand through her hair and hissed in a breath. She winced and drew her hand down to look at it. Blood seeped from a tiny wound in the center of her palm. ''Glass,'' she whispered. ''Must have glass in my hair.''

A fresh bolt of anger blasted through him, but Jake battled it down. He couldn't give in to the rage. He had to be calm. Cool.

Dispassionate.

Right.

''What about your eyes? They okay?''

She nodded, still staring down at the stain of blood, dripping along her life line like some crazed omen of impending doom.

A cold, tight fist squeezed his heart. He didn't like seeing that wounded look on Gina. It didn't suit her. She was a fighter. As he had plenty of reason to know. And by God, he would make sure she was all right. Nobody was going to hurt her. Because to get to her, they would have to get past him first. And that wasn't going to happen.

''Come on,'' he said, his voice gruff and harsher than he'd planned as he took her arm. ''I'll take you home. You can wash out the glass.'' ''I have to work.'' ''It'll keep.''

She lifted her head to meet his gaze, and Jake's heart stumbled. Damn it. Since he'd known her, he'd seen Gina furious, he'd heard her laughter and watched her eyes go hazy with passion. But he'd never seen her hurt. He didn't like it.

''You were right,'' she muttered, with a backward glance at the twisted blinds. ''I wish you weren't, but you were right.''

He forced a smile he didn't feel. ''Ordinarily, I'd enjoy hearing those words from you. Hell, I'd probably make you repeat 'em into a tape recorder. But right now I've got other things on my mind.'' She nodded. ''Like who did it, for instance?''

''For instance.'' He would find out who was behind that rock. And when he did... ''Let's go.''

Back at her house, Gina stripped in her bedroom and carefully put her dark blue power suit into a white trash bag. At least that way, no little specks of stray glass would escape before she had the chance to take it to the cleaners.

None of this felt real. Even while she wore her dark, forest-green robe and stuck her head under the kitchen faucet, she felt as though it wasn't really happening. For goodness sake, she'd never been the target of...well, anyone, before. Warm water rushed over her head, pushing through her hair, rinsing away whatever tiny pieces of glass were still lodged in her thick curls. She stared at the water swirling around the drain in the white porcelain sink and was almost hypnotized by the movement.

Mind racing, she found her imagination cooking up images of what might have been. Had she been sitting at her desk, as usual, that rock would surely have hit her. And even if it had missed, she would have been covered by a shower of glass rather than the few stray specks she was worried about now.

''Let me check,'' Jake said from his position alongside her. His fingers moved through her hair, scraping across her scalp, and tingles of awareness lit up and burst inside her like soap bubbles full of dynamite. His touch was gentle as he carefully searched through her hair for anything she might have missed.

She closed her eyes and let herself remember another time when he'd threaded his hands through her hair. That hot, muggy night in Chicago. When they'd lain together in his bed, at his apartment. The French doors were open to the night, despite the heat. A small table, scattered with the remains of the very romantic dinner he'd had delivered, sat forgotten beneath the stars while Jake entered her body and showed her a whole new set of stars.

The hum of traffic from six stories below had sounded almost like a sigh. Wind off Lake Michigan breezed through the room, but couldn't fight the heat clinging to the city—or the sexual heat shimmering between the two of them. Tangled together on the sheets, they moved in an intimate dance. Breath mingling, bodies pressed together, they discovered something neither of them had counted on. Something neither of them could claim.

And still, a year later, Gina was haunted by the feel of his hands on her skin, by the memory of his body sliding into hers.

''Looks good,'' he said brusquely, and moved away, snatching up a towel from the lemon-yellow tile counter. ''You can go take a shower now. Shouldn't be any more glass for you to step on.''

Breath caught in her chest, Gina reached up and turned off the faucet. She didn't move for a second or two. She couldn't. Just remembering being with Jake had turned her knees to jelly, and she needed a little time to let them harden up again.

Oh, this was sad.

''Hello?'' he asked. ''You awake?'' Wide-awake and still lost in dreams. Perfect. She shifted a sideways look at him, snatched the towel out of his hands and said, ''Yes. I'm awake. And wet. And mad and—'' Oh man, women did not admit to being horny. Especially to the one man they couldn't have.

Okay, best to just shut up, she told herself. If she kept talking, she might say something they'd both end up regretting.

''Good.'' Jake moved farther away from her, as if maybe he was fighting his own memory demons. ''I'm gonna make a couple calls while you're in the shower, then I'll take you back to the office.'' Instinctively, she argued, ''I don't need—'' He erupted. ''If you try to tell me you don't need a bodyguard, I'll—''

''What?'' she demanded, twisting the towel onto the top of her head. Jamming both hands on her hips, she squared off and faced him. What had been between them was over. In the past. What she was fighting for here was her future.

''Damn it, Gina,'' he snapped, ''you could have been killed today.''

''Killed?'' She remembered the rock, the glass, but still shook her head. ''Hardly killed. Hurt, perhaps. But—''

''And that's okay with you?''

''Of course not, but I'm not going to change the way I live just because I'm afraid someone somewhere might try to hurt me.''

''You are for right now,'' he said, and his tone left no room for arguments.

''Hiding out's not going to help, Jake. Heck, having my own personal bodyguard didn't help. You can't protect me from everything.'' She saw him wince at her words and almost wished she could take them back. Instead, she tried to keep a nice, even, logical tone in her voice as she said, ''I can be as careful as I like, but if someone wants at me badly enough, they'll find a way.''

''Not while I'm here,'' he assured her. She could have pointed out that he was in the room when the rock came crashing in, but he knew that already. And it wasn't setting well with him. His body was tight as a wire, his eyes narrowed. Fury pumped through him at such a rate she could almost see him vibrating with the urge to go out and pummel something.

Her own personal white knight. Any other time that might have set off a warm little glow inside her. Hey, women's liberation aside, there was something to be said for a tall, dark, manly man sweeping in to defeat your enemies.

Unfortunately, her white knight was being paid by her daddy to keep her safe. There was nothing personal here. Just one man trying to keep his boss happy. She ignored the tiny pang of disappointment that echoed within her. After all, it would be foolish to wish things were different, when they so clearly weren't.

Jake was still her father's trusted associate—and she was still Jake's natural enemy...the law. She'd run from Chicago a year ago because of her rampaging feelings for him. She couldn't give in to them now.

Inhaling sharply, she said, ''It's your job to keep me safe, right?''

''Right.''

''Fine. Then you do your job so I can do mine.'' She turned and left the kitchen, headed for the bathroom and a nice, hot shower. or maybe, she told herself grimly, a cold one.

No sign of anything.

No witnesses.

No suspects.

A teenager with long blond hair and a dark tan went by on a skateboard, shouted, ''Heads up!'' and zipped past Jake with no more than an inch to spare.

He glared at the kid's back and muttered, ''I hate California.'' Back home in Chicago he would have had access to sources. People he could go to. Talk to. Bribe.

Here he had the beach and the sun and stupid teenagers and no damn clue what to do about some rock-throwing sociopath.

Jake stood outside City Hall and looked back over his shoulder at the adobe-style building with the

Spanish tile roof. Looked like a damn postcard, with its palm trees out front and bright splotches of yellow flowers in neat cement containers.

''Where's the graffiti?'' he muttered. ''Where's the soot? Where's the character?"

''Yeah,'' a deep, gravelly voice from behind him agreed. ''Too much sun ain't good for a man.''

Hell.

Jake's chin hit his chest. His day had just gone from miserable to downright crap. Turning around slowly, he looked down into the shifty blue eyes of a man he'd thought to be safely back in Joliet, Illinois.

The prison in Joliet.

''Freddie,'' Jake muttered, suddenly feeling very tired, ''what the hell are you doing here?''

Freddie ''The Lip'' Baldini winced as if hurt. He lifted his less than pristine hanky to wipe his oversize bottom lip, then looked first to one side then the other, making sure no one was listening.

No one was.

''Hey,'' the short, skinny man in the bad suit whined, ''I got a right to look for the treasure, just like everybody else.''

The treasure. Naturally.

''There's no treasure,'' Jake told him.

Freddie snorted. '''Course you're gonna say that. You want it. That's why Dom sent you here. I ain't stupid.''

The little guy was usually harmless. He was a small fish in Chicago and looked even more out of place in sunny California than Jake felt. Sighing, he asked, ''When'd you get out of Joliet?''

Freddie shrugged. ''Couple weeks ago.'' He laughed and his whole body seemed to shiver, clothes rippling on his bony frame like sheets on a clothesline. ''Good timing, huh?''

''Great.'' Disgusted, Jake scraped one hand across his face. Just as he was thinking that things couldn't get worse, something dawned on him. Hell, he wasn't in Chicago, but a hell of a lot of Chicago was here. Might as well use them. Dropping one arm around the shorter man's narrow shoulders, Jake said, ''Freddie, how'd you like to do Dom—and me—a favor?''

Chapter 5

The next few days passed in a blur.

At work, Gina did her job with Jake at her heels. Like a trained guard dog, he was constantly by her side. He practically snarled when anyone came too close. Which made life at City Hall a little more difficult than usual.

Jake intercepted her messages, stood between her and the public defender, and every day frisked the kid making her mocha delivery. She'd even heard that the employees at Java World were now drawing straws, with the loser being the one forced to deliver her coffee.

Terry and Jake had reached what seemed like an armed truce. Each of them keeping a wary eye on the other, they worked in tag-team protection. one of them was near Gina at all times, which left her nerves more frazzled than they would have been if she were on her own.

Gina felt as though she was trapped in a lockbox. She couldn't take two steps without a shadow. Every minute of every day was monitored.

And every minute of every night was haunted.

Propping her elbows on her desktop, Gina buried her head in her hands. Her hair fell down on either side of her face like a thick, dark brown curtain.

''Maybe all of this would be easier to take if I was getting some sleep.'' But how could she be expected to sleep soundly when she knew that Jake was in her guest room? Separated from her by nothing more than a little cheap drywall and a few two-by-fours?

Every night she lay awake in her bed, listening to him move restlessly around his room. And every night she had to force herself to keep from getting up and going to him. It was ridiculous. Nothing could come of them being together. She knew that. She'd always known. She'd already run from the implications once. And nothing had changed. He was the only man she'd ever known who could turn her body into a carnival—and the one man she shouldn't... couldn't have.

The office door opened and she pushed her hair out of her face and looked up.

''Ms. Palermo?'' Terry said, ''did you forget? You're due in court in fifteen minutes.''

Guilt slammed home with a sharp, quick jab. Her

job, the one she'd worked so hard to get, the one that was so important to her, was definitely suffering.

Gina sucked in a breath and pushed herself to her feet. ''I did forget. God, where's my mind?''

Terry tipped her head backward, toward the waiting room where Jake no doubt sat, like the guardian at the gates of hell. ''Oh,'' the older woman said with a knowing half smile on her face, ''I think I know where your mind has been. And can't say as I blame you.'' She sighed and added in a strained whisper, ''Heck, if I was twenty years younger, I'd be thinking the same thing.'' Gina blinked at her. ''Terry!'' ''Hey, I'm old. I'm not dead.'' She stepped farther into the office and let her voice drop to a whisper that wouldn't carry to the outer office. ''Although, I've got to say, I don't really trust him. He's a little too—'' ''I know,'' Gina said, thinking of the word she'd heard from so many people lately. ''Scary.''

''Well, I was going to go for intense, but scary works.''

''I know he seems that way, but—'' ''If it walks like a duck...'' Terry stopped abruptly and held up one hand before shaking her head. ''None of my business, Ms. Palermo. Just be careful.''

What Terry wasn't saying came through loud and clear. She and a few others knew about Gina's father. Most people never made the connection. After all, Palermo was just a name. And no one expected the upright, hardworking D.A. to actually be related to a mob boss. Those who did know, thankfully, were able to separate her from her infamous father.

Well, until lately. Now Gina saw curiosity in the sheriff's eyes. And the worry in Terry's eyes, and she appreciated it. She really did. But worry wouldn't help anything. She just had to find a way to get through her life unscathed until the idiots searching for a treasure that didn't exist gave up and went home—or back under their rocks.

Until then... Gina flipped open her briefcase and quickly looked through the manila envelopes tucked inside. There weren't many. Which meant a short court day. Good.

As tired as she was, falling asleep at the prosecutor's table was a real possibility.

Snapping her briefcase closed again, she picked it up, smiled at Terry and headed to the outer office. Her gaze went directly to Jake, sitting in the spot he'd claimed as his own.

Gina paused in the doorway just to look at him. She had the distinct feeling that long after he left, long after Jake went home to Chicago, she would still be seeing him in that chair. It was as if he'd imprinted in her life and on the beige walls, making them somehow more vibrant. Even the air in the office felt different with him in it. More alive somehow.

And that thought only proved just how tired she was.

Jake unfolded his long, lean body from the too-small chair, and for the first time, Gina realized he had to be very uncomfortable out here on ''Gina

Watch.'' Those office chairs were designed to keep visitors moving right along, and no one would be happy in one for more than half an hour.

Yet Jake had been there for hours at a time, every day.

If nothing else, the man had staying power.

''Court,'' she said unnecessarily. After all, he probably knew her schedule as well as—or better than— she did now.

He nodded, stepped toward the door and walked through it, into the hall. No silly pretense at chivalry here, Gina thought. He wouldn't hold the door open for her to precede him. However, he was willing to go into the hall and get shot first.

Keeping his gaze fixed on the hallway, he stretched out one hand behind him and crooked a finger. Gina's fingers tightened around the handle of her briefcase. She sucked in a deep breath and reminded herself that no one had been killed at City Hall in years. With any luck at all, that record would hold.

Squaring her shoulders, she walked through the door, made a sharp left turn and headed down the glistening, linoleum pathway toward courtroom 6. Her heels tapped out a rhythm that sounded skittish, anxious. She listened to the solid thump of Jake's footsteps right behind her and realized that she enjoyed knowing he was near. It was comforting, somehow.

Yet knowing that, admitting that, if only to herself, was absolutely terrifying.

''Wait up.'' Jake's voice seemed to echo in the long corridor, bouncing off the walls, ricocheting off the gleaming floor, to finally settle along her spine like a warm touch. She stopped and half turned, looking at him.

He stepped past her, pushed the heavy swinging door open, then entered the courtroom, as usual, a step ahead of her. Attila the Hun meets Lancelot. A pushy white knight. Every girl's dream.

Shaking her head, Gina walked into the courtroom and immediately checked out the surroundings. She was getting almost as good as Jake at this.

There were only a handful of cases to wrap up today. So there were very few people in the pewlike bleachers. A couple of older teenagers, one with very long blond hair that looked nearly white against his tan, sat in the back row and didn't even move as she passed. Mrs. Ryan and Mr. Hobson, two elderly people who whiled away their retirement boredom by trial watching, were right up front, in their usual seats, behind and to the right of the prosecutor's table. off on the left, one middle-aged woman sat alone, crying softly into a tissue that looked more than used up. Ahead, just beyond the two-foot-tall wooden barricade, were the judge's bench, a uniformed, armed bailiff, the P.D. assigned to today's docket, and her own table, empty but for a pitcher of water and a spotty-but-clean glass.

Normal.

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and swiveled her head to look up at Jake. ''Short day today.''

''Glad to hear it,'' he muttered with a half smile. ''Courtrooms give me hives.''

''I'll bet,'' she said, smiling in turn, then moved toward her spot in the day's proceedings.

The bailiff called the court to order, and when the judge walked in, they got down to business.

Jake enjoyed watching Gina in her element. Damn it, he just plain enjoyed watching her. As that thought danced through his brain, he flinched and gave an uncomfortable glance around. Damn good thing there were no mind readers in here.

Scowling to himself, he tried to concentrate on listening to Gina's arguments to the judge. Unfortunately, his gaze and his concentration kept slipping to the silky columns of her legs. He was in bad shape here. If things didn't get straightened out soon, this would get ugly.

Still, he pulled his brain away from thoughts of Gina naked to thoughts of Fate. How was it that a mob boss's daughter became a D.A.? Was that just her destiny? Had she been wired to stand for the very law that Dom had spent a lifetime circumventing? Or was it because her mother had whisked her out of Chicago and away from her father's influence at such a young age?

Would Gina have chosen this career path if she'd grown up around Dom? Or would she be a part of the ''family'' Jake had joined two years ago?

These were questions made to drive a man nuts, he thought. And besides, was it really important? She'd made her choice. The situation was what it was. No point in wondering about what-ifs.

The proceedings went along in a mind-staggeringly boring rut. He said, she said, then the judge said and that was that.

one after the other, cases were brought up, then shut down, and only the faces of the accused changed. Jake watched them all. His sharp-eyed, experienced gaze studied the faces, the eyes, the body language, looking for something...anything...that might help him figure out if any one of them was behind that rock aimed at Gina.

It wasn't so much the rock bothering him as it was the aim. For God's sake, if whoever had done this could get a rock that close to her head, how far off would the bullet sent down the same path have come?

The room held more than a couple familiar faces from Chicago. Frankie ''Two Toes'' Chiara, retired muscle, was sentenced to five days community service for running his metal detector in backyards— with no one's permission. Genevieve Hall, Frankie's fiancee for the last twenty-five years, got two weeks for trying to steal historical reference books from the library. And Tony ''Tipsy'' Baretti got assigned a week of cleaning the highway for tearing apart Jimmy Miletti's hotel room, looking for the key to the ever elusive ''treasure.'' This really was turning into a circus. Disgusted with the whole damn thing, Jake forgot about watching the too-stupid-to-breathe-on-their-own defendants and turned his attention back to Gina.

While she talked, her voice drifting through Jake's awareness like a cool wind, a strange sensation settled over him.

He was being watched.

He felt the power of a steady stare as surely as if someone's index finger were jabbed into the center of his back. The small hairs at the back of his neck stood straight up.

He'd listened to his instincts for years. And those instincts had saved his butt more times than he liked to think about.

Slowly, carefully, he shifted position just enough to turn his head to the left. From the corner of his eye, he checked out the few people sitting behind him.

Bad situation from the get-go.

He didn't like having people behind him. Maybe it came from life in the Palermo family, but he felt a hell of a lot safer when people were where he could keep an eye on them. But here he opted to sit directly behind Gina, to protect her, and that left way too many seats at his back.

He picked out the two teenagers and dismissed them. Lounging on the bench, they looked as bored as only teenagers could get. The middle-aged woman hadn't moved—or changed her used-up tissue for a new one.

But the swinging door into the courtroom was swinging. Did that mean someone new had been here and then left? Or did it mean someone here had slapped that door to throw him off? He shifted his gaze to drift across the harmless bunch he'd already considered and dismissed.

And he wondered.

''Mr. Tortelli,'' the judge was saying.

At the familiar name, Jake turned his attention back to the court. The young thug at the defendant's table was a long way from Chicago. Rico Tortelli had the face of an angel and the personality of a rattlesnake. Both had served him well so far in his career of choice. Hell, everybody was looking for that stupid treasure.

''We don't approve of bar fights in Sunrise Beach,'' the judge said. ''You will make restitution to the club owner and in addition pay a one thousand dollar fine.''

Chump change to a guy like Tortelli. The creep grinned, then had the nerve to wink at Gina as the jailer walked him out of the courtroom.

''Well, Ms. Palermo,'' the gray-haired judge said, with a relieved and tired sigh. ''That's it for today's festivities. See you tomorrow, same time, same place?''

''Yes, Your Honor.'' Everyone in the room stood as the end of session was announced and the black-robed judge slipped off the bench and into his chambers.

Jake stood up, too, pushing his sense of disquiet to the back of his mind for the moment. Leaning across the barrier separating them, he asked, ''So how many treasure hunters today, total?''

She swung her hair back out of her face to look at him. ''Five, not counting Mr. Barfight.'' She shut her briefcase, then curled her fingers through the handle and picked it up. Walking through the gate, she fell into step beside him, ignoring the people still in the room. ''This is getting more and more nuts every day, Jake.''

''Tell me about it.'' He checked the hall before allowing her out into it, then ushered her through the door. ''That last guy, Tortelli?''

''Another knee breaker?''

''Oh, yeah.'' He shot her a look and shrugged. ''The guy loves his work, too. Surprising it was only a bar fight.''

''See?'' she said, waving one hand to keep time with her own words. ''This is what I mean. My nice little town is all of a sudden looking like Vegas in the fifties.''

Jake came to a stop just outside the door to Gina's office and looked down at her. ''I know. But I spoke to your father yesterday. He said he's trying to spread the word about the no-treasure thing. So maybe...''

''Maybe.'' She held the briefcase in front of her body like some sort of leather armor. ''The truth is we have no idea how to convince these idiots that there's no reason to stay here.''

Anger flickered in her eyes, and he couldn't blame her. Frustrating as hell to come up against something you didn't have a clue how to fight. Damn it, Jimmy, did you know what you were starting with all that talk about a treasure?

''I have to get back to work,'' Gina said, snapping Jake out of his thoughts.

''Don't,'' he said suddenly, giving in to an impulse he should have tried to bury.

''What?''

''Don't go back to work.'' Remembering the eerie sensation he'd experienced in the courtroom, he thought maybe it was a good idea to get the hell outta Dodge for a while. Whoever had been watching him and Gina might still be around. Why give them another opportunity to reach her? ''Take the rest of the day off.''

''Right.'' She choked off a laugh. ''And do what?''

Think, Falcone. Think.

Then it hit him.

He shrugged and shoved both hands into his pockets. ''Show me around. Try to convince me that 'paradise' is better than Chicago.''

''That wouldn't be tough,'' she said, smiling with one corner of her mouth.

Damn, a smile did amazing things for her eyes. Just to see it again, he teased her. ''Hey, I love Chicago. Convincing me that the Land of Constant Sun is a better bet could take some doing.''

She was waffling. He could see it in her eyes. He gave her another verbal nudge.

''How anyone could prefer this—'' he waved a hand toward the closed glass doors and the sunlit world yonder ''—over Comiskey Park, Vienna hot dogs and Lake Michigan is beyond me.''

She took a long, deep breath and blew it out. Jake was pretty sure he could actually see tension sliding out of her body. Then she smiled and all he could see was the liquid warmth in her eyes.

''Okay, Falcone,'' she said, holding out her right hand. ''You're on. In one glorious afternoon, I will prove to you that Southern California is the best place to live in the world.''

He took her hand in his and shook it. ''Deal. But you're gonna have to show me some amazing things to pull this off.''

''No problem,'' she said, and grinned. Hell.

Nothing was going to be more amazing than that smile.

Chapter 6

stopped by her place first.

''Jeans, Falcone,'' Gina shouted from behind her closed bedroom door. ''Do you own a pair?''

''Yeah, I think I can manage,'' he called back from the guest room.

Gina didn't even want to think about him in that room, undressing. So she kept her brain busy by asking herself what in heaven's name she was doing, playing hooky from work. Heading out to play with Jake Falcone.

Getting goose bumps just thinking about him.

This could not be a good thing.

But, she admitted silently, that wasn't going to stop her.

Gina shimmied into her jeans and inhaled sharply

as she pulled up the zipper. Too many snacks lately. Nervous eating. In times of stress, she always reached first for chocolate. But much more reaching and she'd be out shopping for a new wardrobe. She walked to her dresser and opened a drawer. Pulling out a dark green, cropped tank top, she slipped into it, then stood back and stared at herself in the mirror.

Her hair was a wild tangle around her head and she thought for a second about subduing it in a ponytail. Then she realized she and Jake would have the same hairstyle, so she opted for loose, messy curls. High spots of color dotted her cheeks and her eyes looked way too excited.

''Chill out, Gina,'' she warned her reflection sternly. ''Jake is not Prince Charming and you're certainly not Cinderella.'' She scowled at the woman in the mirror and hoped she was getting through. But she sincerely doubted it.

Prince Charming or not, Jake Falcone was a formidable presence.

''Hey, you ready?'' Jake knocked on her bedroom door. ''Or are you one of those women who take forever to—''

Gina walked over and threw the door open, cutting him off in midsentence. Oh, he looked even better in jeans than he did in black slacks and dress shirts.

His jeans were worn, broken in, and looked great on him. His open-collared, black—naturally—pull-over shirt displayed a small V of his chest, and Gina swallowed hard. She remembered all too well just how tan his chest was. How broad and well muscled.

How his skin felt beneath her hands. She sucked in another breath. His black hair, pulled into the familiar ponytail, made her hands itch to free it. She wanted to see him as she remembered him from that night a year ago. Wild.

Dangerous.

Naked.

''You look...'' He paused and ran his eyes up and down with a slow deliberation that set off both warning bells in the back of her mind and wildfires in her bloodstream. When his gaze locked with hers again, he smiled, and Gina's stomach did a quick somersault. oh, boy.

He breached her defenses.

Leaning one shoulder against the doorjamb, he said, ''Well, let's just say jeans never looked so good.''

''Thanks.''

''You're welcome.''

She inhaled sharply and blew it out again. ''You look good out of uniform.''

Frown lines erupted between his arched brows. ''Uniform?''

''The black slacks, white shirt, blue tie, black jacket.''

He gave her a quirked smile again. ''You don't approve?''

She threw his words back at him. ''Let's just say jeans never looked so good.''

His eyes went dark and hot for one split second,

but it was enough to melt her knees again. Gina locked them just to keep upright.

A second or two ticked past as they stood in the doorway to her room, neither of them willing to move along just yet.

''Are we actually having a civil conversation?'' she asked.

''Amazing, huh?'' he agreed, then reached out and took her hand. Gina got zapped instantly by something that felt a lot stronger than static electricity. He felt it, too; she saw it in his eyes. But he didn't mention it, just folded his fingers around hers and challenged, ''Okay, California Girl, show me your world.''

I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours, she thought.

Oh God.

They covered a lot of territory.

They hit a sand castle competition in Seal Beach, and a surfing contest in Huntington Beach. They dropped by the Sawdust Festival in Laguna Beach, the tide pools at Dana Point and then finished up by going for Mexican food at a restaurant that advertised the world's biggest margaritas.

They sat on the restaurant's patio, perched high on a cliff overlooking Dana Point Harbor. Below them, waves crashed relentlessly against the jetty built to stop the more powerful sea surges, then, subdued, slapped against the cliff face, sending spray high into the air. The steady swell and retreat of the ocean sounded like a heartbeat and thundered, low and powerful, beneath the voices coming from the tables surrounding them.

A spectacular sunset dazzled the sky, streaking the few clouds with shades of deep purple and blood-red. The surface of the ocean sparkled in the dying light and reflected the colors shimmering above.

''So,'' Gina asked, lifting her margarita glass in both hands, ''what do you say? Southern California growing on you?''

''Good beaches,'' he conceded.

She took a long sip of her drink, then swiped her upper lip with her tongue. He followed the motion and felt his whole damn body straighten up and shout Hallelujah.

''But there's so much more,'' she said, and set her drink down so she could tick off points on her fingers. ''Things we didn't have time to get to. There's Disneyland—''

''Please, no,'' he said.

She laughed. ''Knott's Berry Farm. They have an Independence Hall there, too. And there are museums and the tar pits and Hollywood and Beverly Hills and there's Exposition Park, the observatory, the Center for the Performing Arts and the Hollywood Bowl with their summer concert series and—''

''How many more points are you going to hit?'' he interrupted quickly when she took a breath.

''I could go on all night,'' she said, and tipped her head to one side. The ends of her hair brushed her shoulder, and Jake wanted to reach out and do the

same. Instead, he rubbed his fingertips together, remembering just how silky her skin felt to the touch.

''You don't have to,'' he said, chuckling at the competitive gleam in her eyes. ''I surrender. Southern California isn't exactly the hellhole I thought it was.'' ''Ooh,'' she said, shaking her head. ''Big concession.''

''Hey, that's a lot, coming from me.'' ''What is it about Chicago that makes it so great?'' she countered with her own challenge.

''What's not to like? Big city, lots going on. Our river actually has water in it,'' he teased, and leaned back in his chair, keeping his gaze fixed on her face. ''We've got the Cubbies and the White Sox....'' ''Angels and Dodgers,'' she countered. ''We've got the St. Patrick's Day parade.'' ''Year-round golf.'' ''Snow.'' ''No snow.''

''Vienna sausage vendors.'' ''Churros.''

He laughed now. ''Cinnamon-sugar Mexican pastries do not compete with Vienna sausages.''

''Who'd want to?'' She leaned forward, pursed her lips around the straw in her glass and took another long sip of the frothy drink. ''Nope. Admit it, Falcone, I did it. I showed you just how great this place is and you can't deny it.''

Jake just stared at her. It had been a long afternoon, but he wished it wasn't ending. She'd done her best, showing him all the beauty that could be found on the California coast. But if he was to admit the truth, nothing she'd shown him could compare to Gina herself.

And the fact that California had her was enough to let her state win their little contest. But he couldn't exactly say that, now could he? Instead, he took a sip of his beer and smiled.

''Okay, I admit it. You convinced me.'' ''Yes!'' She lifted both hands high in the air in a victory salute, and the action raised the hem of her already-cut-off tank top. Jake's mouth went dry and his fingers tightened around the cold, wet bottle of beer.

''Oh, look...''

She spoke and he had to force himself to come up out of the delicious daydream looking at her exposed skin had thrown him into. ''Hmm? What?''

She shook her head, lifted her left hand and pointed. ''Look.''

He did. The setting sun was almost down. Half of it already swallowed by the vast ocean, the upper half glowed like a ball of fire and sent ribbons of golden light streaming across the surface of the water. The scattered clouds overhead were banners of brilliant color against the darkening sky.

''Isn't it gorgeous?'' she whispered, as if they were in a church.

Jake shifted his gaze to her face. ''Absolutely.'' She turned her head to catch him staring at her, and her eyes went soft and smoky. A soft wind tousled her hair and carried the scent of her perfume to him.

Jake drew it deep inside and held it, in the same corner of his heart where he kept the memory of their one night together.

Back at her house, Gina was glad he stayed outside to make some calls on his cell phone. Ever since she'd caught him staring at her in that I'm-starving-and-you're-a-steak kind of way, her nerves had been jumbled into knots. She needed a few minutes—okay, hours, but she'd settle for minutes—alone. She'd always loved her little house on the rocks. She'd considered it cozy.

Now, with Jake in it, it just felt small.

Too small.

The flowered curtains draped across the windows closed the room in. The narrow hallway and tiny spaces gave her no room to maneuver. Nowhere to go to keep a safe distance between her and the man who was slowly, inexorably, destroying her defenses.

They shared the one bathroom, and seeing his shaving gear on the sink and his soap and shampoo in the shower felt intimate. They were living in each other's pockets here, and it couldn't go on forever without exploding in their faces. Something had to happen. Something had to give.

And she had the distinct feeling it was going to be her.

''Get a grip, Gina,'' she said, leaning toward the bathroom mirror as her fingers grabbed the cold edge of the porcelain sink. She met her own gaze and kept her voice stern. ''If you give in, there's nothing but trouble headed your way. And if you don't...'' She paused, bit her bottom lip and inhaled deeply. Unfortunately, that one deep breath brought her the scent of Jake's shampoo from its uncapped bottle. Quickly, she grabbed it and twisted the lid on fiercely. ''If you don't give in, you'll always regret it and always wonder what 'round two' might have been like....'' She slammed the shampoo bottle onto the edge of the tub and looked into the mirror again. ''But you won't have your heart ripped out of your chest, so that would be a good thing.''

Right. Good. She could do this. She just wouldn't think about how much fun the day had been. About how he'd tried to keep a solemn, disinterested expression on his face when they'd explored the tide pools. About how he'd laughed when that rogue wave slapped into them, giving them both an icy shower. About how he'd held her chair for her at the restaurant and how he'd looked at her and how his eyes had flashed in the last lights of the dying sun.

''Oh, yeah. This is gonna work,'' she muttered, and stomped down the short hall to her bedroom. She hit the light switch on the way in, and instantly the bedside lamps flicked on, casting soft, golden haloes onto the wide bed and the hardwood floor. The sheer white curtains fluttered like peppy ghosts in the breeze slipping beneath the open window. Gina stripped off her tank top, unhooked her bra and tossed it onto the bed—then froze.

Open window?

She didn't leave the window open.

She never left the windows open.

She shot a quick, startled look at the fluttering curtains, and as they lifted again in their wind-tossed dance, she saw a face. Watching her.

Gina screamed and called for help. ''Jake!''

He heard her scream all the way at the back of the house. Jake hung up on his boss and took off at a dead run. Slamming through the kitchen, he kept going, through the hall, bypassing the living room and heading straight for her bedroom, following her shouts.

''Jake!''

''I'm here!''

She was wearing her jeans and clutching her tank top in front of her naked breasts. With her free hand, she pointed to the window. ''Someone was there. Watching me. Looking in, and when I screamed, I think he took off. Or she. I think it was a he, but I don't know, it—''

As she babbled, Jake shoved the curtains aside, pushed open the window farther and climbed out. Nothing. Nobody. There wasn't enough light to look for footprints, but then he'd probably obliterated them already, anyway. He moved away from the window, farther into the shadows, and strained to listen. From far off, he heard the whine of an engine and recognized it as a motorcycle.

Whoever the Peeping Tom had been, he was gone now.

Damn it.

''Did you see anything?'' Gina materialized beside him. She'd climbed out the window right behind him, and he'd been so focused on finding the intruder he hadn't even noticed. She stood close enough to him that he felt her body trembling. He glanced at her. She'd pulled her tank top back on without bothering with the bra, and her nipples stood at attention beneath the thin fabric.

''No,'' he said, draping one arm around her shoulders to pull her even closer to him. ''Whoever it was, he's gone.''

She sighed and turned her face into his chest, leaning on him, drawing strength from him. Silently, he wrapped both arms around her and just held on for a long minute, letting her heart—and his—regain a normal beat. God, hearing her scream had taken about ten years off his life.

And in his line of work, he couldn't afford that.

But she was all right. Shaken, but okay. If she'd been hurt... Oh, he didn't want to think about that. Not while he was holding her, soft and warm and pliant.

He had to wrap this up.

Things were getting too weird.

Maybe it was time to talk to the sheriff. But not right now. Right now, Jake wanted to make sure Gina was okay.

''Come on,'' he said, and started for the back door. ''Let's get you inside.''

She nodded and walked with him, still holding on for all she was worth. When they stepped into the kitchen, Jake paused long enough to turn and lock the door behind them. Then he guided her not to her bedroom, but into the living room, where she could sit and relax and try to forget about—

''Shit.''

''Oh my God.'' Gina straightened up and away from him, then took a step farther into the room. They hadn't seen it before. She'd gone straight to the bathroom, and when he'd come in, all he'd been able to think of was getting to her.

So the living room was a complete surprise.

Her Peeping Tom had been busy.

The sofa cushions had been knifed and searched, and cotton batting lay across the floor as if some freak snowstorm had blown through the room. Tables were upended and the bookcases emptied. Books and magazines were scattered across the braided throw rugs. Even the TV had been tipped over onto its side and the table it usually rested on was listing on three legs. Knickknacks were shattered, pictures ripped from their frames and tossed aside and her matching overstuffed chairs had been sliced open and searched.

''Who would...?'' she murmured, walking into the room and accidentally kicking a picture frame. ''Why would...?''

''That damn treasure,'' Jake growled, from low in his throat. ''They're still looking for Jimmy's treasure and they think you've got it.''

''Me?'' Gina turned in a slow circle, mouth open, eyes wide as she surveyed the destruction of her little nest.

''Yeah.'' He bit the word off. ''We probably surprised the guy. That was your peeper.''

''He did all this,'' she said, spreading her arms wide to encompass what was left of her house, ''then stopped to spy on me?''

''Looks that way,'' Jake stated tightly, and silently congratulated himself on being able to form words despite the red haze of fury nearly choking him. ''Probably considered you stripping a bonus.''

''Why is everything so nuts?'' she demanded, and kicked a throw pillow across the room. ''Why is my nice, neat little world imploding?''

''You won't be hurt,'' he said. ''I won't let you be hurt. So don't be scared.''

''I'm not scared,'' she said, then sucked in a gulp of air and admitted, ''Okay, I was. When I saw that creep staring at me, I was plenty scared. But I knew you were here. I knew you'd come.''

''Unfortunately, not fast enough, though.'' He hadn't caught the guy and that really fried him. ''But if you hadn't been here...'' He looked into her eyes and caught a quick glimmer of lingering fear. He didn't like it. ''I was.''

She nodded, swallowed hard and nodded again. ''I...'' She shook her head, tried to speak, then stopped. A second or two later, she tried again. ''I don't even know what to do, what to say. Except I want that guy caught.'' ''He will be.''

''Damn right he will be.'' Stalking around the room, she looked at the devastation and muttered darkly under her breath. Then, louder, she said, ''They even broke this!'' Grabbing up a twisted metal frame and shaking loose the jagged glass shards, she held up a photo of herself and her father.

''It can be fixed,'' Jake said, keeping his voice a lot calmer than he felt at the moment. He hated seeing her like this, but angry was better than scared.

''It shouldn't have to be fixed.'' She slammed it back onto the bookshelf where it belonged. It teetered and fell over, and that motion only seemed to feed the fury inside her. She'd known this could happen, of course. She just hadn't believed it actually would. ''They wrecked my house!'' ''Yeah, they did.''

''Looking for a treasure that doesn't exist.'' ''That's true, too.'' ''Quit agreeing with me.'' ''Yes, ma'am.''

She stopped, inhaled sharply, deeply, and blew the air out in such a rush the curls near her forehead ruffled. ''You're trying to calm me down, aren't you?'' It was better than feeding her fury with his own. Damn it, just standing here doing nothing was killing him. He wanted someone to pummel. Someone to pay. But she was more important. ''Is it working?'' She looked at him. Really looked at him, then nodded abruptly. ''Yes, damn it.''

''Good. Getting mad is okay, keeping calm is essential.''

''Essential.'' She nodded again and took a step toward him, stepping on a torn book and staggering

slightly as it gave beneath her foot. She scowled down at it, then seemed to forget about it as she looked at him. ''You know what else is essential here, Jake?'' He shook his head, staring into her eyes, drawn by the storms swirling in those whiskey-colored depths.

''I think you are,'' she said, and his body went on alert.

''Gina...''

''In the last week, my godfather's died, my town's been invaded and now my home has been trashed.'' She threw her hands wide and let them slap against her thighs when they fell. ''I've been calm. I've been logical. And you know what? It hasn't helped.'' ''You think this will?'' ''I think we need to find out.'' ''Dom'll kill me.''

''If you talk about my father at this particular moment in time, I'll kill you.''

''It's complicated, Gina,'' he said, trying to talk her down, despite the fact that his instincts were screaming at him to grab her, no questions asked.

''It doesn't have to be. For tonight, it doesn't have to be.''

Chapter 7

It's crazy,'' he said, and moved closer, one slow step at a time. ''All of it. Us. The treasure hunters. The peeper. It's all crazy.''

''Uh-huh,'' Gina said, her gaze locked with his. She couldn't look away. Couldn't break the connection humming between them.

It had always been there, just below the surface. She'd tried to ignore it. Tried to overcome it. But the feelings he created in her just wouldn't be denied. Not now. Not tonight. Not after walking into her home and finding it ransacked. Not after realizing a stranger had been there. Walking through the cozy little rooms. Going through her things. Destroying her memories, her personal belongings...her illusion of safety. If she'd been home alone... If she'd walked in on whoever had done this...

A bubble of fear swelled inside her, but she fought against it. She didn't want to be afraid. She wanted to be grateful. Grateful to be alive. And here.

With Jake.

''I shouldn't be anywhere near you,'' he murmured, and closed the remaining distance between them, his gaze moving over her features hungrily.

Gina breathed deeply, evenly, trying to steady her erratic heartbeat. But he was so close. So solid. So strong. So... Jake.

''Nothing's changed since last year,'' he said, his voice strangled as if he was fighting the urge to grab her. ''We're still—''

''I know.'' And she also knew that pain would be waiting for her, sometime soon. The pain of losing Jake again. of watching him walk out of her life. He didn't want to change and she couldn't. Their ''twains'' would never meet. But that didn't alter one undeniable fact.

She loved him.

God help her, she loved a gangster.

Fate really did have a sense of humor.

He was so close now she felt the heat of his body reaching out to her. And the cold she'd carried inside for more than a year melted in the warmth of his eyes.

''We'll probably regret this,'' he murmured.

''But we'd regret it more if we didn't.''

''Oh, yeah.'' He reached for her and she moved

into his embrace and the decision was made. No more thinking. No more questions. Just need and the demand to satisfy it.

She tipped her head back and looked into his eyes as he slowly lowered his head to come within a kiss of her lips. He stopped just short of the magic and whispered, ''You sure?''

''Yes.'' This was the one thing in her life she was suddenly, absolutely, certain of. ''You?''

''I've been sure since the minute I saw you again.'' Then he kissed her and Gina's mind short-circuited. His mouth came down on hers and claimed her as thoroughly as he had a year ago.

Every touch was familiar, yet new, exciting. Her blood raced and her heartbeat quickened until she thought she might strangle with it. She couldn't draw in a breath and she so didn't care. His hands stroked her body, fiercely, possessively, up and down her spine, exploring her, discovering her all over again.

She groaned, went up on her toes, wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tightly—preparing for the roller-coaster ride she knew was coming.

He parted her lips with his tongue and swept into her warmth. She welcomed him with a sigh and gave herself up to the amazing sensations that only Jake could create. She met his caress with every stroke. He took and she offered more. She sighed and his arms tightened around her, like bands of steel, as if he was never going to let her go again.

He groaned, tore his mouth from hers and looked down at her as he struggled for air. His gaze moved over her face, his fingers dug into her waist and she pushed herself even closer to him, wanting, needing, to feel. To be devoured. To become a part of him.

Without a word, he bent and picked her up, cradling her close to his chest as he turned and headed for her bedroom. Her hands stroked his chest, and even through the fabric of his shirt, she felt his heart pounding, crashing against his chest.

In seconds, he was laying her down on the bed. Then he stepped back, slammed the window closed and drew the curtains.

Gina came up on one elbow. ''Thought you said the peeper was gone.''

He crossed the floor, hit the light switch and plunged the room into darkness. Moonlight seeped through the curtains, shadowing the room with a soft, pale light that allowed Gina to just make him out as he came close.

''Yeah, well,'' Jake said as he tore his clothes off, ''this is just in case he comes back looking for the late show.''

When he joined her on the bed, Gina opened her arms to him. Her hands scraped across his face, defining every feature, then slipped to the back of his neck. With a flick of her wrist, she pulled the band off his ponytail, freeing his thick, black hair so she could spear her fingers through the mass. Then she looked up at him and whispered, ''I don't want to think about that. Here, now, it's just us. Nothing else exists.''

''Just us,'' he agreed, and skimmed his palms up beneath her tank top. She shifted, helping him, and he pulled it off of her, tossing it over his shoulder to land on the floor beside the bed.

He filled his palms with her, his thumbs and forefingers tweaking her nipples, pulling at them gently until she moved and shifted beneath him as if she were lying on a bed of coals, looking for comfort. ''Jake...''

''Yeah, baby,'' he whispered, then dipped his head to taste first one nipple, then the other. He nibbled at her and suckled until she rocked on the bed, moaning his name, clutching at his hair, his shoulders. Pulling him closer, tighter, more firmly against her, she arched into his mouth, wanting him, needing him, to take more of her. To give more. To race with her into the crashing release she knew was waiting for them.

Eager, hungry for him, Gina reached for the waistband of her jeans, but Jake's hands stopped her. ''No,'' he said softly, his breath dusting her skin, ''let me.''

He undid the button, slid the zipper down, then slowly, agonizingly slowly, began to pull her jeans over her hips and down her legs. His mouth trailed after the fabric, moving along her skin like damp heat. Gina writhed beneath him, moving with his touch, his kiss, feeling the buildup of fire within until it nearly consumed her. Her need reached out to him and fed the flames devouring him.

Jake had wanted to go slowly. To savor being with her again. But need flashed through him and he surrendered to it. It had been too long since he'd been with her. Too long since he'd felt this...alive. Quickening his pace, he pulled her jeans off and paused only a moment to smile at her red lace panties before disposing of them, too. He let his palms slide up her legs, remembering the feel of her, memorizing this moment and storing it along with the images of that night a year ago.

Because he knew, even as he loved her, even as he stroked her body, that he couldn't claim her heart. He knew that night would end, tomorrow would come— and the wall that stood between them would still be there.

But for this one moment, for this small slice of time, she was his. And he closed his mind to the rest, determined only to enjoy what they had. To make the most of a few stolen moments out of a lifetime. What they could make together, here, in the moonlit shadows. She sighed and moved under his touch. His heart slammed against his ribs, his blood thundered in his ears.

''Jake,'' she sighed, and lifted both arms in open invitation. He went to her, covering her body with his, needing to be closer, to feel her heart beating in time with his. He relished the brush of her nipples against his chest. Her skin felt like warm silk and he couldn't seem to touch enough of her. A soft groan slid from her throat and dropped right into his soul.

She moved into him, opening for him in a silent demand, a silent plea. Jake bent his head and kissed her, his hair falling forward to shutter them both. He claimed her as he had a year before, restaking his territory. Mouths mating, breaths mingling, they came together in a silent dance where words weren't needed. Where only passion reigned and reason had no place.

He moved against her, increasing the already unbearable tension shimmering between them. She shifted beneath him, spreading her legs, welcoming him. And he couldn't prolong the waiting. He had to have her. Had to be in her. He entered her with a sigh and then stayed perfectly still, savoring the connection between them. The wonder of being a part of her.

''Jake,'' she said, her voice coming on an exhaled breath. ''Jake, please...''

He stared down into her eyes and felt himself falling into the warm amber of her gaze. Then he moved within her and she responded, shifting with him, moving in that rhythm that only lovers share.

The world held its breath.

Time stopped.

And in the shadow-filled bedroom, two hearts came together as two bodies tumbled over the edge of oblivion.

* * *

An hour later, the sheriff and his deputy were grimly assessing the living room. While the deputy sprinkled fingerprinting powder on the shattered remnants of Gina's home, Sheriff Reynolds faced Jake. ''You should have called me in right away.'' The cop looked furious and Jake couldn't blame him. Maybe they should have called right away. It would've made more sense than what had actually happened. But given a choice now, he wouldn't change a thing.

''Gina was upset,'' Jake said, his gaze shooting to her, following the deputy as he worked. They'd had to call the cops in, whether he liked it or not. Gina hadn't been anxious to have more people poking around her house, but she was willing to do whatever she had to do to catch whoever was responsible for the mess. And as a D.A., she knew the police had to be notified and a report filed.

Hell, Jake would be making his own report, later. ''I don't know what you're up to, Falcone,'' the sheriff was saying, and Jake swung his attention back to the man watching him. ''But I don't trust you.'' One black eyebrow lifted. ''Is that right?'' ''Yeah.'' Reynolds shifted, so that his back was to Gina. ''See, ever since you guys hit town, I've had nothing but headaches.''

''You guys?" Jake repeated, stiffening slightly. Reynolds noted his reaction and shook his head. ''Don't play dumb with me. I'm not impressed.''

A flicker of admiration spurted to life inside Jake, though he hated to admit it. Local cops were usually more of a pain than anything else. But Reynolds hadn't backed down from the bunch infiltrating his city. He'd locked them up and hauled them to court. And now he was facing Jake and looking as though he'd like nothing better than to lock him up, as well.

''It's one thing for me to spend most of my time tossing idiots in jail for trotting through backyards with metal detectors,'' he said. ''It's another when my friends start getting hurt.''

Jake shifted, planting his feet in a fighting stance, and unconsciously folded his arms across his chest. ''What's your point?''

''My point is...'' he glanced over his shoulder toward Gina, still heckling his deputy ''...whatever else you're up to, I figure you care about Gina. Want to see she's safe.''

''Yeah? So?''

''So, you make some calls. You talk to whoever it is you know who can get these guys the hell outta my town.''

Jake scowled at the other man and swallowed back his own frustration. Jake was worried about Gina. Reynolds was worried about a whole town. ''I'm working on it,'' he said.

''Work harder.''

The police had no leads on her break-in.

So Gina spent the next two days studying the faces of everyone around her. Even the familiar ones. The ones belonging to people she'd trusted. People she'd known for years.

And she didn't like it.

Her sense of safety was gone.

okay, maybe it had been an illusion. After all, she wasn't an idiot. She dealt every day with criminals. She knew all too well that the world wasn't an easy place. That anyone and everyone was a potential victim.

But she'd never really believed it could happen to her.

Break-ins were things you read about in the newspaper. Or on court dockets.

They weren't something you actually had to live with.

Just being alone in her own house was a little creepy now. She half expected someone to jump out at her from behind a door every time she walked down a hallway. Her nerves were stretched to the breaking point, and having Jake there was only making it worse.

On the one hand, she'd hate like hell to be alone right now, jumping at every creak and moan her old house made in the night. on the other hand...Jake being there created a whole different sort of tension.

Two days ago, their relationship had shifted. They'd gone from wary adversaries to wary lovers. And though they hadn't made love again since that night, that didn't change the fact that each of them

wanted it to happen. But neither was willing to take another step down a road that was already filled with land mines. There were no happy endings here. There were no easy answers. Just confusion. And the promise of pain.

Gina went through her days in a sort of haze. She did her job, but took no joy, no satisfaction in it anymore. Her mind was too wrapped up with her heart, and her heart was just too bruised.

The phone on her desk rang and she pushed her thoughts aside, picked up a pen and answered it. ''Gina Palermo.'' ''Hi, honey.''

She dropped the pen and leaned back in her chair, relieved that this wasn't a work call, demanding concentration. ''Hello, Dad.'' ''How are things out there?'' Gina smiled, despite the turmoil in her brain. ''You say 'out there' like I'm on Mars.''

''Might as well be,'' he said cheerfully. Gina's hand tightened on the receiver. ''You sound just like Jake. Nowhere but Chicago, huh?''

He ignored that question and asked one of his own. ''How is Jake? He taking good care of you?''

Instantly, images filled her mind. Jake looming over her. Jake bending to kiss her as his body slid into hers. Jake showing her the stars all over again. ''Uh...'' She sat up straight to grab up that pen

again. ''Sure, Jake's doing...^ne.'' Oh yeah, that sounded convincing.

''Is there something you're not telling me?'' Plenty. ''No, Dad. I'm just busy, is all. Everything is all right. Well, except for the treasure hunters.'' ''It'll blow over.''

''I hope so. Our jail isn't very big, you know.'' He chuckled and Gina smiled. ''Trust me, honey,'' her father said. ''Nothing stays the same forever.''

Jake kept his gaze locked on the doorway to Gina's office, twenty feet away. He didn't like being even this far from her, but some things couldn't be helped. ''What did you find out?'' he asked.

Freddie ''The Lip'' Baldini wheezed out a laugh that ended in a harsh, broken cough. The little guy shook all over for a minute, his too baggy suit shivering and shaking along with him as if it had a life of its own. When he was finished, he wiped his ever present hanky across his thick bottom lip and smiled. ''I been asking around, just like you told me.'' ''Yeah?'' Jake swallowed his impatience. For Freddie, telling the story was half the fun. And if he was interrupted, he'd only start all over again.

The skinny man lifted one finger and pointed to his very generous nose. ''I got ways of finding things out. I know how to listen.'' If he could actually hear with that nose, Jake

thought, the man would be picking up conversations in Philadelphia.

''So I asked around. To see what's what.'' ''And...?'' Jake flashed another quick glance at Gina's office. No one had gone near the front of the building. He and Freddie were standing in the skimpy shade of a tall, thin-as-Freddie palm tree, and the longer they stood there, the longer someone had to get to Gina.

''It ain't one of our guys,'' Freddie said, and two bushy gray eyebrows lifted as he waited for Jake's response. He didn't wait long.

''Our guys? You mean no one from Chicago was behind that break-in?''

''Nope.'' Freddie wiped his lip again, gave a cautious look around at the empty front yard of the courthouse, and shivered a little at being so close to a house of justice. Then he looked back up at Jake. ''Nor the rock, neither.''

Okay, now Jake was confused. He had figured the rock thrower and the peeper were the same person— and he'd have been willing to bet that that person was here for Jimmy's treasure.

Sure, Gina might have made enemies. But come on. Half the mob had descended on Sunrise Beach. What better suspects could a man ask for?

''You sure?'' he demanded, giving Freddie a look that told him he'd better have his facts straight. The little guy just tapped the side of his nose. ''Da

nose, knows,'' he said solemnly, then chuckled again, sending himself into another paroxysm of coughing.

Jake waited until Freddie was himself again, then he asked one question. ''Do you have a name?''

Freddie gave him a sly smile. ''Do you have my money?''

Chapter 8

Freddie's information had really paid off.

Jake pushed the hulking blond skateboarder down onto a wooden bench set against the beige wall in the police station. ''Stay,'' he ordered, then winced and touched one finger to his split lip.

Damn kid.

He slanted a glance at the blonde, slouched on the bench and muttering to himself. Not really a kid, either, Jake thought. He looked a lot younger than twenty-two. Must be the dark tan and all the skateboarding.

or maybe it was the breaking and entering that kept him young. Little bastard.

''Can I help you?'' A short, brunette deputy came out from behind her desk and walked toward him, keeping an interested eye on the blonde.

''Yeah,'' Jake said. ''I want to see Sheriff Reynolds.''

''He's—''

''Reynolds!'' Jake glanced around the small, but efficient looking station. A bulletin board took up one wall, with community announcements tacked to it, along with sheafs of brightly colored bits of paper and the occasional Wanted poster. Four wide desks cluttered the main room and three closed doors led off to God knew where. Probably jail cells. But at the moment, Jake didn't care. All he was interested in was getting this wrapped up.

A split second later a door flew open, the sheriff stepped through one of the doors—apparently his of-fice—and demanded, ''What in the hell is—'' He broke off as he caught sight of Jake and the blond hulk sitting close by.

Waving his deputy off, Reynolds approached, shot another look at the tall, muscular kid and took in Jake's blackening eye and split lip. ''What happened to—''

''He wants to make a confession,'' Jake said, then turned a dark eye on the blond guy who'd sucker punched him when confronted about the rock-throwing incident. Damn punk had gotten in two or three good hits before Jake had hit him back. Maybe he shouldn't have waited so long, he thought, running his tongue over a tooth that felt a little loose.

''What happened to him?'' the sheriff asked.

''He fell,'' Jake said, keeping a straight face even as he shot the blonde a look daring him to challenge the statement.

''On you?'' Reynolds asked, smothering a chuckle.

''Funny.'' Hell, it was embarrassing to admit that a younger man had taken him by surprise. But Jake's split lip and sore eye spoke for themselves.

Shaking his head, the sheriff glanced at the younger man. ''So I'm guessing this is Jeff Doyle.''

Surprised again, Jake stared at him. ''How'd you know?''

''It's my job to know,'' Reynolds said. Then he added, ''Fingerprints from Gina's place. The guy's not exactly a rocket scientist. His prints were all over everything.'' He slanted a look at the sullen blonde. ''Isn't that right, Jeff?''

''So you already—''

''One of my guys went to his house this morning, but he was gone. Guess he was off...falling."

''Yeah. Guess so.'' Jake scraped a hand across the back of his neck. Good to know that at least there was evidence to hold the guy, more than just his confession. Jake probably should have figured the police would follow up and do their job. But he hadn't been able to wait. With Freddie's information, Jake had headed right out to Doyle's place.

The guy had hassled Gina.

Endangered her.

Made her afraid.

And Jake had wanted a shot at him.

He glowered at the tall blond skateboarder. The

same guy who'd nearly run Jake over his first day in town...the same one who'd sat in the back of a courtroom observing Gina...the one who'd tossed a rock through her window.

Reynolds crooked a finger for his deputy. Without taking his gaze off the blonde, he said, ''Read him his rights, Kathy, then throw him in a cell.''

The tiny brunette came forward, grabbed the guy's upper arm and dragged him to his feet. ''Come on, Slick,'' she said with a smile. ''I've got a nice room all picked out for you.''

''But why?'' Gina paced the length of her office, stopped at the windows overlooking the front of the building, then turned around to face Jake again. ''Why would this Jeff Doyle want to hurt me?''

Jake perched on the edge of her desk, watching her pace. He licked his split lip, touched it gingerly, then shrugged. ''Apparently you put his baby brother in jail.''

''What?'' Doyle, she thought. Doyle. But it was no use. She'd been working hard at her job for three years. She'd sent her fair share of criminals to jail and it would have been impossible to remember them all. Reaching up, she pushed her hair back from her face and admitted, ''I don't even know the name.''

''No reason why you should,'' he said. ''Doyle's brother stole a car, you gave him six months and Jeff thought that was a little harsh. So he pitched a rock.'' ''Lovely,'' she muttered, grateful that good ol' Jeff hadn't had a gun.

''Then he started hearing about the treasure,'' Jake continued, ''and he heard bar talk, indicating that you were the key to the whole thing. So our friend Mr. Doyle decided that he could look for clues and mess with you at the same time.''

''Unbelievable,'' she murmured.

''Oh yeah,'' Jake added, ''he says he hadn't planned on peeping in the window, but when he saw you undress he thought, what the hell, you're still hot.''

Gina did a slow burn for a long minute. The gangsters in town had thrown everything into chaos. They'd spawned the talk of the treasure and were ultimately responsible for this idiot ransacking her house. He wouldn't have bothered if he hadn't been trying to find the stupid treasure!

''Did you hit him?''

''Once.''

''Thanks.''

''No problem,'' Jake said, leaving his lip alone long enough to reach up to check the swelling around his eye.

''Are you all right?'' Gina looked at him and felt her heart squeeze in her chest. He'd gone out and found the bad guy. He'd defended her honor and come away from the field of battle beaten but not bowed. And she loved him for it. She loved him for lots of reasons, none of which changed the facts still standing between them.

''Yeah, I'm fine.''

''I'm glad....'' she said, walking toward him, her heels tapping on the wooden floor. He quirked a smile at her. ''But...'' God, he knew her so well, she thought. Why was this all so hard? Why couldn't it have been easier? Why did he have to be working for her father and living the kind of life she hated so much?

Gina inhaled sharply. "But..." She had to say it. Had to say what had been nibbling at the back of her mind all morning. Ever since talking to her father. ''This whole situation is your fault.''

''Huh? My fault?'' He stood up and looked down at her. ''How do you get that?''

''The treasure, Jake. This is all about the treasure. Without it—'' she threw her hands high ''—that Doyle character would have been satisfied with pitching a rock through my window.'' ''Oh, and that's no big deal.'' ''Of course it's a big deal, but it's not... You know what I mean.''

''I don't think I do,'' he said tightly. Gina wasn't even sure where the words were coming from, but it was as if a dam had burst inside her and nothing could stop the onrushing tide. ''Don't you get it? Even the crummiest criminal, the smallest, the pettiest of them are somehow magnified when they get around you guys.''

Impatiently, he pushed one hand along the side of his head. ''That's the second time today someone's said 'you guys' to me in that tone of voice.''

''Do you think I like it?'' she demanded, planting both hands on his chest and shoving. He didn't budge. It was like pushing a mountain. A tall, dark, gorgeous, glowering mountain. ''Do you think I like knowing that you're part of my father's world?''

''Gina...'' He covered her hands with his, but she jerked back as if burned.

''God, I wish you were a...a plumber,'' she said, muttering wildly as she reached up to scrape both hands along her scalp, trying to keep her brain from exploding. ''A computer nerd. Anything but what you are.''

Frustration shimmered across his features, dazzled his eyes and left him defeated. ''There's nothing I can do about that.''

''You could," she countered, snapping him a look that flashed with her inner fury. ''The real truth is, you won't."

He ground his teeth together, and Gina could almost hear them being crushed into powder. Well, she knew how he felt. Ever since he'd come back into her life, she'd felt it. The sense of impending doom. The beginning of the end. God, she sounded like a soap opera, even to herself. But the simple truth was she was in love, with someone she couldn't have. And the pain of that knowledge chewed at her relentlessly.

''Gina, if I could—''

''Don't even say it,'' she snapped, interrupting him before he could hold a carrot out in front of her, only to yank it away at the last minute. ''Don't say you would quit if you could. Because we both know that's a lie.'' She wrapped her arms around her middle and held on tight.

Pulling in a long, shaky breath, she said, ''It just can't work, Jake. I'm a rule follower.'' She swallowed hard, then continued, ''If there's no traffic on Pacific Coast Highway at three in the morning—if I'm in the only car for miles around—I'll still sit there and wait for the light to turn green.''

He smiled, but his eyes gleamed with a sorrow she felt right down to her bones. She spoke again quickly, trying to say it all and be done with it. If she'd said these things to him last year, instead of just running away, then maybe she wouldn't be so miserable again now.

''I don't even litter, Jake. I never lie about my taxes and I keep off the grass when I'm supposed to.'' She took a step away from him and felt a chill she hadn't known in a year creep over her again. ''I could never live the kind of life most people only see in old gangster movies.''

Jake reached for her, but she stepped back, though the movement cost her. His hands dropped to his sides. ''I can't give you what you want, Gina. You know that. You knew it going in.''

''I know,'' she whispered. ''I know, but it doesn't make the pain go away.''

''If it's any consolation,'' he nearly growled, ''this is killing me.''

She lifted her gaze to his, and Jake was staggered by the sheen of tears glistening in her eyes. ''You know what, Jake? It doesn't help at all.''

* * *

Back at her house, Jake kept his distance. The place had been straightened up, but the sense of warmth in the house was gone. At least for him.

He hadn't meant to hurt her again. Hell, to hurt himself again. But there was nothing he could do about it. If he could change things, he would. For her sake.

Standing on the rocks behind the house, he stared out at the dark ocean and told himself that it was his job to keep her safe. Not happy. And if she hated him now, then maybe that was a good thing.

Waves crashed at his feet, thundering against the rock, sending spray into the swirl of wind pushing at him. Overhead, the moon pulsed in a black sky and even the stars looked a little dimmer.

A car engine thrummed above the roar of the sea, and Jake went on red alert instantly. Whipping around, he ignored the soft glow of lamplight streaming from the windows to lay across the ground in golden patches. Instead, he focused on the compact car pulling to a stop in Gina's driveway.

He drew his nine millimeter, and crouching low, ran across the gravel to come around the side of the house just as Gina stepped onto the front porch. Her hair twisted and flew in the wind. Barefoot, in a T-shirt and jeans, she looked impossibly young. Impossibly vulnerable. His heart clutched painfully in his chest.

''Get back,'' he ordered.

She didn't move.

Stubborn.

A tall, thin man with wire-frame glasses and a hairline that had receded to the back of his head stepped out of the car, clutching a small, brown package. He spotted Jake first and jerked back at the sight of the gun. ''Hey—''

''Who are you?'' Jake demanded, even as Gina stepped off the porch and walked toward them.

''Charles Simmons,'' the man said, his voice quavering, his gaze still fixed hypnotically on the pistol in Jake's hand. ''I'm with Schuyler, Fitch and Hopkins, attorneys for James Miletti.''

''Jimmy?'' Gina said.

The man flicked a quick look at her, gulped loudly and nodded. ''Yes. I, uh, have a package for a Ms. Gina Palermo.''

''What kind of package?'' Jake asked, and held out one arm to keep Gina back when she would have gone closer. His forearm brushed her chest and she stepped away from him. Her quick, instinctive movement stabbed at him, but he ignored the pain and concentrated on the nervous man in front of him.

''It's...excuse me, but could you point that somewhere else?'' he asked.

''Nope.''

''Jake...'' Gina looked at him.

''Not till I know what he's got,'' Jake said, not even looking at her.

The man in question straightened up to his less than spectacular height, tugged at his tie as though he were strangling and said, ''Ms. Palermo is the beneficiary of Mr. Miletti's will. I'm here to carry out his last request.''

He looked harmless, Jake thought. But then, so did a lot of psychos.

''It's all right, Jake,'' Gina said, and walked up to the man. ''What is it?''

Simmons looked at her, but, not at all sure he was safe yet, kept darting glances at Jake. ''I have no idea,'' he said. ''This was left at our offices with instructions to deliver it to you within a month of Mr. Miletti's demise.''

Gina took it, ran her fingers over the brown paper and said quietly, ''Thank you for bringing it.''

''Of course,'' the man said, backing away toward his car again. ''Uh, there was also a small amount of money, a few stocks. I'm afraid he didn't leave much.'' He handed her a thick envelope. ''It's all in here.''

Gina looked at him and held the package and envelope tightly to her. ''Thank you again.''

''Yes. I, uh, of course. And now, good, uh, good night.'' He hopped into his car, fired up the engine and threw it into reverse. Stepping on the gas, he skidded at the end of the driveway and raced off into the night.

Jake tucked the gun back into its holster and stood looking down at Gina. ''Think I scared him.'' ''You have that effect on some people.'' ''Are you gonna open that?'' ''Yes,'' she said, and smoothed her hand across the package again before tearing away the tape at the

edges and folding back the brown paper. A picture frame, it was upside down when she opened the package. When she turned it over, she inhaled sharply. It was an old photo, one of her and Jimmy, taken at her high school graduation.

She blinked back tears. ''Oh, Jimmy...''

Jake dropped an arm around her shoulders and she didn't move away. She was just too grateful for the warmth of him.

''There's a note,'' Jake said, and pulled it from the paper it was taped to.

Still staring down at the photo of herself and her precious godfather, she said, ''Read it.''

opening the note, Jake read it. Then read it again. He couldn't believe it. After everything that had gone on, it had come down to this. A chuckle started low inside him and slowly, inexorably built until it pushed free. Shaking his head, he just stared at Gina as she looked up at him with tear-filled eyes.

''What's so funny?'' she demanded.

''This,'' he said, holding the note out to her. And in the soft glow of the porch light, she read the note aloud.

'' 'To Gina, my only treasure. Remember me, Love, Jimmy.' Treasure?'' she repeated, shifting her gaze to the photo again.

''That's right, honey,'' Jake said, still laughing to himself. ''You're Jimmy's treasure.''

It didn't take long to get the word out.

And with no treasure to be found, the Chicago contingent packed up and left Sunrise Beach within forty-eight hours. With everything back to normal, and life settling back into its pleasant, if too-familiar rut, Gina was forced to accept the fact that Jake would be leaving.

''It's for the best,'' she told herself, though even she didn't believe that. She already ached for him. She would miss him the rest of her life. And all she could see of the future was a long succession of years stretching out ahead of her, one following the next, each as empty and lonely as the one before.

She stepped out onto the back porch and stared at Jake, standing out on the point of rocks. His cell phone to his ear, he was so involved with his conversation he hadn't even noticed her. She took the opportunity to burn his image into her brain. She wanted to always be able to remember him like this. Tall and strong, his black hair whipping in the wind.

Then he hung up and turned to face her. Too far away to read his expression, Gina braced herself for their goodbye. She just hoped this was the last time. Because she didn't think she'd survive it again.

As he approached, he shoved his cell phone into his jacket pocket and scrubbed one hand across his face.

''Just go, Jake,'' she said abruptly. ''I can't take a long goodbye.''

''How about a long hello?'' he asked.

She blinked at him and shook her head. ''What?''

He looked off to one side, then shifted his gaze back to hers. ''I was just on the phone with my boss and—''

''Dad wants you back in Chicago.'' He smiled wryly. ''No. I wasn't talking to your father. It was my real boss.'' ''I'm confused.''

''Not surprising,'' he said, and stepped up onto the porch to stand directly in front of her. Reaching out, he ran his hands up and down her forearms, his thumbs stroking her skin just below the sleeves of her plain white blouse. ''Look, I couldn't tell you this before. I wanted to, but I couldn't.''

''Tell me what?'' she asked, hardly daring to draw a breath.

''I'm not a gangster.'' He shook his head, sucked in a gulp of air and blew it out again. ''I'm with the FBI.'' ''FBI?''

He grinned at her shock, but kept talking before it could wear off. ''I've been working undercover with your father. Helping him to legitimize his business holdings.'' Jake shrugged. ''Your old man wants to go straight. He wants to make you proud of him.''

Proud? He wanted to...? Gina lifted both hands and rubbed her face briskly. It was just too much information. Too much to take in. ''Dad's...''

''Getting out of the mob business,'' he finished for her. ''He's got enough information stored away in a safe place to insure he stays 'healthy,' and within six months, he'll be totally legal.'' ''Legal. My father.''

''Yeah. He's given us so much evidence, we'll be trying to make sense of it for years.''

''You're FBI.'' She said it again, testing the sound of it.

''Yeah, I am. We're on the same side, Gina.'' His hands tightened on her arms. ''We always have been.''

''FBI.''

He frowned at her. ''Are you okay?''

She kicked him.

''Hey!'' He let her go, bent down and grabbed his shin.

''You should have told me,'' she shouted as she shoved him out of her way and stormed down the steps. She didn't stop, just kept walking until she was out on the point, standing on the rocks with the waves crashing below.

Jake was just a step behind her. When he caught up, he grabbed her upper arm and swung her around to face him. ''I couldn't tell you. I was undercover, remember?''

''You could have trusted me,'' she said, her voice snatched by the wind.

''I did. I do," he said, willing her to believe him. ''But it wasn't my decision to make. I just now got the go-ahead from my superior.''

''Why now?'' she asked, trying to hear him over the pounding of her own heart. ''Why was it all right now?"

Pulling her tightly to him, Jake threaded his fingers through her hair and tipped her head back until she

was looking at him. ''Because now is when I told him that I wouldn't let you get away again. Now is when I told him that the work at Dom's is nearly finished. They can send someone else in to wrap it up.'' ''But—''

Jake bent his head, kissed her into silence, then drew back long enough to say, ''I want to marry you, Gina. I want to marry you badly enough to have requested a transfer to the L.A. office.''

She grinned suddenly and felt her heart swell with the sweet sting of hope. Only a few minutes ago, she'd been wrapped in darkness, loneliness. Now everything had shifted again, and it was...wonderful. ''You're willing to leave Chicago to be here with me?''

''For you, honey, you bet. On one condition.'' ''What's that?''

''Every summer, we go to Chicago for a Cubs' game—or two.''

''That's it?'' she asked, wrapping her arms around his waist and hanging on tight enough to keep him with her always.

''That's it,'' he said, lifting one hand to cup her face with gentle fingers. ''I love you, Gina. Always have. Always will.''

''Oh, Jake,'' she said softly, ''I love you, too. So much.''

''Then you'd better marry me fast.'' One corner of his mouth tilted into that quirky smile that tugged at the bottom of her heart. ''Even though your father's going straight, that's one man I don't want mad at me.''

''Dad?'' Gina said, laughter filling her voice, her heart, her soul. ''He's a sweetheart. I'm the one you have to worry about.''

''Trust me, baby. I do.''

Then he kissed her, and the wild, crashing surf sounded like a symphony.