John opened his front door and sized up Georgeanne in one quick glance. At ten in the morning, she looked fresh and perfectly flawless. She’d brushed her dark hair into a twisted bun on the back of her head, and diamond studs adorned each earlobe. She wore one of those awful female power suits that hid her deep cleavage and covered her to her knees. “Did you bring them?” he asked, and stepped aside to let her into his houseboat. When she walked past, he raised his arm a little and took a quick sniff. He didn’t smell too bad, but maybe he should have taken a shower after his run. Maybe he should have changed out of his jogging shorts and ratty gray T-shirt.
“Yes, I brought several.” Georgeanne walked into the living room, and he shut the door behind her. “Just make sure you keep your part of the bargain.”
“Let m
e see the goods first.” As she dug into her beige briefcase, his eyes slid down her body. The severity of her hair and the blue and white pinstripes made her appear almost sexless-almost. But her eyes were a little too green, her mouth a bit too full and a shade too red. And her body… well, hell, there wasn’t a damn thing she could wear to conceal her breasts. Just looking at her made a man think evil thoughts.
“Here.” She shoved a framed picture at him.
He took the photograph of Lexie and moved to the leather sofa. It was a school picture, with Lexie giving the camera a real cheesy smile. “What kind of grades did she get in school?” he asked.
“They don’t give grades in kindergarten.”
He sat with his knees wide. “Then how do you know if she’s learning what she needs?”
“She’s had two years of preschool. She reads and writes simple words really well, thank God. I was so afraid she might struggle.”
When she sat next to him, he looked at her. “Why?”
Georgeanne pushed up the corners of her mouth. “No reason.”
She was lying, but he didn’t want to argue with her-not yet. “I hate when you do that.”
“What?”
“Smile when you don’t mean it.”
“Too bad. There are a lot of things I don’t like about you.”
“Like what?”
“Like you stealing that awful picture from my office yesterday and holding it for ransom. I don’t appreciate blackmail.”
He hadn’t intended to blackmail her. He’d taken the photograph because he liked it. No other reason. He liked to look at her beautiful face and her pregnant belly, huge with his baby. When he looked at it, his chest swelled with pride, nearly choking him with good old-fashioned testicular machismo. “Georgie, Georgie,” he sighed. “I thought we’d cleared up these ugly accusations last night on the phone. I told you, I simply borrowed that picture,” he lied. He’d never had any intention of giving it back, but then she’d called and yelled at him about it, and he’d decided to use her emotions to his advantage.
“Now give me the photograph you stole.”
John shook his head. “Not until you replace it with something of equal or greater value. This one is kind of cheesy,” he said, and set the school picture on the coffee table. “What else ya got?”
She handed him a portrait taken in one of those glamour studios in the mall. He stared at his little girl, looking like a tart in heavy makeup, long rhinestone earrings, and a fluffy purple boa. He frowned and tossed it on the table. “I don’t think so.”
“It’s her favorite.”
“Then I’ll think about it. What else?”
She scowled and bent forward to dig deeper into her briefcase. A slit in the side of her skirt parted and slid up her thigh, gracing him with a glimpse of bare flesh above tan hose and powder blue garter. Holy Mother of God. “Where are you going dressed like that?”
She straightened. The skirt closed, and the show was over.
“I’m meeting a client in her home on Mercer.” She handed him another photograph, but he didn’t look at it.
“Are you sure you’re not meeting your boyfriend?”
“Charles?”
“Do you have more than one?”
“No, I don’t have more than one, and I’m sure I’m not meeting him.”