Deceived (Private Justice Book #3): A Novel by Irene Hannon Page A

home for a shower, as Connor had.
    Connor.
    Shower.
    Her heart skipped a beat.
    Frowning, she shoved the brush back into her daypack and yanked the zipper closed. What was wrong with her these days? A new romance wasn’t on her agenda—now, or perhaps ever. She still loved John. Would always love him.
    Yet something strange had happened in Connor’s car this morning. The air had practically sizzled—and not because of the hot weather. Maybe it was the intimacy of the confined space. Or the quiet dawn hours that seemed to foster the sharing of secrets.
    Or it might have been the man himself.
    She leaned against the counter, rubbed at the twin lines above her nose, and faced the truth.
    It was curtain number three.
    Connor Sullivan rocked.
    The man had been impressive in his jacket, tie, and crisp shirt on Monday at the office, radiating competence, confidence, and professionalism—not to mention good looks. He’d been no less professional today, even if he’d exchanged the more formal attire for a black T-shirt that hugged his broad chest and a pair of worn jeans that sat low on his lean hips and hugged his long, muscular legs. But he’d also exuded an appealing masculinitythat had sent a tingle of adrenaline surging through her—and given her the courage to ask questions about his background that were none of her business. Questions that had taken him off guard. Questions he hadn’t necessarily liked.
    But he’d answered them . . . and Connor Sullivan didn’t strike her as a man who did anything he didn’t want to do.
    So why had he responded?
    Was it because he, too, had felt that sizzle of attraction?
    Yes.
    Even as the definitive answer echoed in her mind, her stomach fluttered.
    Not good.
    How could she feel attracted to another man if she still loved her husband?
    When the answer proved elusive, she began to pace in the tiny ladies’ room. Fortunately, the problem shouldn’t be an immediate issue. From what she’d observed, Connor wasn’t the type to let his emotions rule while working a case. He was too professional for that. This was a man who’d guarded the vice president. You didn’t get handed that kind of responsibility without being disciplined, focused, and—in keeping with the Secret Service motto—worthy of trust and confidence. He’d toe the line while the case was active.
    But if he’d felt the zip of electricity in the car this morning as strongly as she had, once their professional relationship was over, that same focused discipline might be redirected toward her.
    Oh, man.
    She stopped pacing and pressed her forehead against the cold tile above the light switch.
    Unfortunately, it did nothing to cool her down.
    A knock sounded inches from her ear, and she jerked back, heart hammering as she flipped the lock and pulled the door open.
    Pauline stood on the other side, her expression quizzical. “Are you all right? You’ve been in here awhile.”
    “Yes.” Her cheeks warmed as she held up the daypack. “Sorry for the delay. I had to clean up and change clothes.”
    “I know. I saw you dash in here fifteen minutes ago. Are you sure you feel all right? You have circles under your eyes and you’re a little flushed.”
    “I’m fine.” When another volunteer passed by and gave her a curious look too, she took Pauline’s arm and guided her toward her office. This was why she kept her personal life to herself at work. If people knew too much, the staff gossiped and things got messy. At least Pauline was discreet.
    Once inside, Kate shut the door. “My PI had a lead on the little boy, and I went with him to do some surveillance early this morning. I didn’t sleep well, and I’ve been up since four-thirty. Plus, we were in a car without air-conditioning.”
    “Ah. That would explain why you seem a bit discombobulated. Any success?”
    “No.” She already knew neither of the youngsters Connor had photographed was the boy she’d seen at the mall. “But he’s going to go back