 Mouse over the cover to see the hero, Simon Beaulieux |
Catch Me If You Can
January 2011
[formerly published as: SIM #990, Feb 2000]
ISBN-10: 0373079907
ISBN-13: 978-0373079902
Winner of the:
2001 Daphne du Maurier Award
2001 National Readers’ Choice Award
2001 Golden Chalice Grand Prize
Golden Heart Award
She got the wrong man…or did she?
Kit Colfax is a sassy insurance investigator who is out to catch herself a suave Southern jewel thief any way she can. Her very career depends on it. But she’s in for the surprise of her life when she mistakenly snares handsome chief of police Simon “Beau” Beaulieux in her sting operation instead.
Lord have mercy, if the man didn’t have a voice custom made for smooth satin sheets on hot, sultry afternoons, dripping with the scent of honeysuckle and the taste of icy mint juleps sliding down kiss-parched throats.
Kit does her best to resist the sexy Louisiana aristocrat. But a series of disasters—certainly not his heated kisses—have her chasing Beau from Las Vegas to the bayous of his antebellum plantation, where she finds herself hopelessly caught in the sensual web of his love.
In a supple movement, Beau pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. Kit’s breath caught. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, lean hips, powerful thighs, all encased in perfectly tailored black evening clothes. His jet black hair fell disarmingly over one eye. She nearly sighed out loud. The women of the world would be losing a prime piece of real estate when he got sent down.
With deliberate ease he sauntered around, coming to a halt right beside her. She grasped the edge of the table. He was way too close. So close, the heat and the scent of him surrounded her, smoky from the cheroot, a hint of spice and sandalwood cologne, and oh, so male.
What was with her? She didn’t do men any more. They were demanding, selfish, shallow creatures, and hell on a woman’s career. With an unsteady hand she reached up and pushed her blond hair behind her ear, so he could examine her earring. They were emerald-cut studs, matching the sapphires in the necklace.
“Exquisite,” he murmured. His fingers softly collided with hers, then moved on to brush the outer shell of her ear. His warm breath fanned her cheek, causing stray hairs to tickle her neck. A finger traced around her earlobe.
“They’re worth–”
“I’m not interested in the earrings.”
Her eyes flew open and she turned her head, alarmed. His face was so close their noses practically touched. The angled slash of his cheekbones and square strength of his jaw should have made his expression forbidding, or at least severe. Instead it looked sensual and provocative.
“But I’ve got nothing else to offer.”
As she watched, his whiskey colored eyes darkened to a deep mahogany. “Darlin’, you’ve got plenty to offer.”
Oh, lord. This was not in the plan, either. No way was this in the plan.
“What–” Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and tried again. “What is it you want?”
She knew what she wanted. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to kiss her so badly her knees were shaking and she could hardly stand in her high heels.
She swallowed heavily.
For a moment he stared at her mouth, then his gaze dropped to her throat, her collarbone, lower, and lower, until it settled on her breasts. His eyes lifted to hers, filled with lambent invitation. There was little doubt what he wanted, either.
“Your dress.”