“I don’t think so,” I said. “I’ll sleep on the pullout in the living room. We’ll deal with why you’re here in the morning. I’m beat at the moment.”

“Let me take care of you then, handsome.” She leaned forward, her nipples protruding through the black curtain of her hair. Her shoulder tattoo of a skull and rose drew my focus.

I’d kissed that spot a thousand times, running my lips over the lines of the work. It was beautiful, and the red of the rose was a shade I’d never seen on another tattoo. It had been my favorite place to kiss her.

Which should have told me something right there.

Now? Nothing. Not one budge of my cock.

Maybe because I’d already had two orgasms.

Or maybe because I was infatuated with another woman.

No, I’d been infatuated before. I was feeling something more profound for Lacey.

Something more…

I shook my head to clear it. Not going there.

Right now I had a woman in my bed…and not the one I wanted there.

“Goodnight, Nieves.” I walked out the door.

Uncomfortable sofa bed for me tonight.

34

Lacey

Riley Wolfe is missing.

That was the message waiting for me when I got to the office the next morning.

The message hadn’t come from Rock or either of his brothers. It had come from my associate who was handling the transfer of the Wolfe family jewelry, most of which had been left to Riley.

This wasn’t really my problem. Ordinarily, I’d leave it to the family to find their missing member. But Riley Wolfe niggled at me. Something was bothering her. And if she was missing? She wouldn’t show up in Paris for her contract in several days. Fox Mulder—or whatever his name was—had mentioned that she had some issues. Maybe he could shed some light on where she might be.

I picked up my phone. “Charlie, see if you can find any contact information for Fox Mul—” What was his last name? I sighed. “First name Fox, last name starts with M. He’s a model.”

“You mean Fox Monroe?”

“Yeah, that’s it. See if you can find him. He might have information on Riley Wolfe.”

“Will do.”

I checked my calendar and then grabbed my purse. I pulled out the small piece of paper with Rock’s handwriting on it. It had a slightly right slant, and his writing was very masculine. At least that’s how I perceived it.

Had a great time. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven for dinner.

Rock

Why had I kept the note? And why had I put it in my purse and brought it to work with me?