“Do you dream in color?”

  “I’m sorry?” I looked up from the book, immediately noticing the stranger’s kind smile.

  He nodded toward what I was holding. “Quite a book for someone so young.”

  “Oh,” I said, laughing. The title of the book I was holding was All Things Bright and Colorful. “It’s for a school project. The importance of color within poetry.”

  He pulled a book from the shelf, fingering the cover. “Absolutely beautiful. Just remember that when you dream in color, all things are possible.”

  I watched as he walked away, realizing I’d been holding my breath.

  As the memory faded, I could no longer feel my legs.

  The man’s upcoming execution had opened floodgates. I could barely breathe.

  One. Two. Three. Four.

  With my eyes closed, I concentrated on my breathing. And counting. Seconds ticked by.

  Maybe minutes. Finally, I was able to take deep breaths as anger replaced terror. I’d worked far too hard in my life to allow the motherfucker to derail everything. Never again. To hell with him.

  Still unable to focus, I moved my hands along the counter until I reached the kitchen door. Somehow, I stumbled into the living room and toward the picture window staring out at my front lawn. With rain pelting against the glass, it was impossible to see anything, but just for a few seconds, I could swear a face formed in the distant fog.

  A man’s face.

  And he was smiling.

  “Hey, Jessica. Can you do me a favor and set up a meeting with Molly Sims next week?” As soon as I took a sip of coffee, I groaned. Why did I bother drinking the horrible brew from the office? Like ever? I had no idea if our office manager had gotten a deal on a crate of stale Keurig pods, but the java had a bitter acrid taste.

  The day had all but gotten away from me. With depositions and an unexpected new client, I was shocked I’d gotten anything accomplished.

  Especially since the fog had refused to completely leave.

  How many years had I managed to stay free from the horrible vacuum that had come close to destroying my life? Long enough the freedom meant the world to me. That’s why I refused to take the day off, wallowing in self-pity. If I’d done so, the bastard would have won.

  One step in front of the other. He could no longer hurt me.

  Besides tomorrow was another day, including stepping foot inside a courtroom after the contentious loss. I’d need to be on my game. It made me furious that the wheels of justice seemed to be sliding in every scumbag’s way. I made it my personal mission to keep that from happening.

  The reason I signed on for this career was all about getting even in my own way.

  “Sure, Alexia,” Jessica said quietly, not even bothering to glance up at me as she’d normally do. Instead, she was staring at her computer screen, the horrible look on her face disturbing.

  I moved behind her, glancing over her shoulder, a tickle of ice drifting across my arms. “That’s the missing attorney.”

  Images of the morning news show popped into my mind all over again. I had to remind myself once again that the killer was behind bars and had been. He couldn’t hurt anyone ever again.

  “Yes. Ashley Bordeaux was my sister’s roommate in college. They were close. Ashley even spent a summer with us. I can’t believe she’s missing.” Jessica was obviously deeply disturbed.

  “Do you think it has something to do with that asshole boyfriend of hers?”

  Jessica tossed her pen. “He is a jerk, but no. My sister tried to tell her that more than once, but I don’t think he has an abusive bone in his body. He’s too squeaky clean. You can tell by his signature yacht style clothing.”

  “You should know by now looks can be deceiving.” My mind drifted to several cases I’d had over the years since becoming an attorney. Enough that I’d learned a long time ago to trust my instincts. My gut had never steered me wrong. When I paid attention.

  The girl was smiling in the photograph, which was Ashley’s professional picture taken for the firm she worked for. She was a lovely girl with long dark hair. She looked a little like me.

  Why did another icy shudder skitter down my spine?

  She groaned and flicked off the screen. “You’re right, but he swears he hasn’t seen her. I’m so worried about her.”

  “Well, hopefully, she’s just cooling off a little. Now, about that meeting.”

  “Oh, yes, of course. I’ll send you a confirmation email.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Oh, I sent you something else via email.” Her demeanor had completely changed. A little sly around the edges.

  “What have you done?”

  “Moi?” Shrugging, she returned to whatever she’d been working on before, purposely tossing me a few looks. She’d been my assistant for almost three years, the best damn paralegal in the business. We’d also gotten very close personally, the cases we worked on together taking a significant toll on our psyches.

  There wasn’t a day that went by when we weren’t trying to rationalize how the court system could all but forget about the victims, shoving them aside as if what they’d gone through had been of no consequence. I’d committed my life to working within the confines of the law, fighting against evil.

  Jessica was right there with me, a strong fighter. Plus, she reminded me of someone I’d known a very long time ago.

  Someone I hadn’t been able to protect.

  “Yes, you. Don’t forget who signs your paycheck.”

  “Technically, that’s your boss.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Talk or I won’t sign off on your next vacation days.”

  She rose to her feet, casually swinging her hips back and forth as she moved around the end of her desk. When she slid her hand into my open briefcase, I lifted an eyebrow. I should have known what she was surfing for.

  As soon as she pulled the book I’d brought with me into the light, I tried to snatch it from her fingers, but she jerked it away. “Give me that.”

  “Not yet. I can see why you always carry one of his books around. He’s a hot-looking man. I hear he’s a very eligible bachelor too. In case you’re interested.”

  “I’m not. Men are the last thing on my mind. You sound like my best friend.” I grabbed the book, offering her a distinctive primal growl. “He worked on some amazing FBI cases back in the day. I’ve learned a lot from his books.”

  A slow and steady smile crossed her face.

  “Not like that. To help with the ones we’re working on.”

  “Whatever you say. Anyway, glance at your emails. I still think he’s hot.”

  I shoved the book into my briefcase, grumbling as I did and tossed the remainder of the wretched coffee in her trashcan. Yes, he was hot. That much I would admit. The perfect protector. A true hero in my mind.

  He was also way out of my league, likely a millionaire a few times over. Not that having money was a bad thing.

  I closed my door, dropping my briefcase and immediately heading to my desk, curious to see what Jessica had sent.

  “Huh.” I found the email easily enough. When I pulled up the details, I sat back in my seat, tapping my fingers on the fake mahogany.

  A book signing at a local bookstore.

  What were the odds a New York Times bestselling author would stop by a local brick and mortar store to sign a few copies of his latest bestseller? Well, he hadn’t moved away from Miami after becoming rich and famous.

  I would love to meet the man. Maybe karma was trying to slide her grimy little mitts into my world, giving me a shove.

  Or maybe karma was actually giving me an opportunity I couldn’t refuse. Especially after seeing the morning news.

  While I was thinking about the opportunity, making mental note of the date, my personal cellphone rang. Grabbing it without thinking, I continued reading about the event even as I answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Do you dream in color?”

  It took a full five seconds to realize the question that had rumbled off the man’s tongue. “What did you say?”

  His chuckle was long and dark. “I asked if your dreams were in color.”

  “Who the fuck is this?” On edge, I immediately rose from my chair, heading toward the window in my office. For some reason, I stood at the corner, peering out at the parking lot, my personal view.

  Breathe. Just breathe.

  The question was one several people had known about. It would be easy to find. Pain ripped through my eyes as a rush of memories almost brought me to my knees. Hell, no.

  There was no one standing staring up at me from the street, but my skin continued to crawl. This was just some jerk hungering for a blip of fame. I’d seen it happen a half dozen times in my career.

  “Oh, I think you know who it is. I’ve missed you. Very much.” His laugh was deep, jovial. No. Not the same.

  “Look, buddy. I don’t know what the hell you’re doing, but I’m hanging up now.”

  “There was nothing like the hunting of women. No gourmet food. No expensive liquor. No sensual perfume. And no raw, unbridled sexual experience that could hold a candle to the hunt, the capture, and the kill. You were the only woman who wasn’t afraid. That’s when I knew you were special. Very special indeed.”

  All the convincing I was trying to do wasn’t working. My skin began to crawl. “What the hell are you insinuating?” I couldn’t stop shaking.

  His chuckle kept me on the line. “We’ll meet again very soon. Very soon indeed. Maria.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Maverick

  A cautionary tale of diplomacy.

  In other words, faking a goddamn smile for hours on end.

  If I had another cup of coffee, there would be no way of stopping the reality of my personality from escaping the debonair façade. Oh, who was I kidding? Today I bore the look of an author who’d been stuck inside his house facing one deadline after another. Not exactly disheveled considering my blazer came directly from Italy, but close enough to keep my female fans enamored.

  “Are we finished yet?” I asked while managing to preserve the jovial expression even as three women took turns taking pictures with my cardboard self on the other side of the thick velvet rope.

  “Look at that line, Mav. Come on. Meeting your fans isn’t the worst thing in the world. I remember your first signing when two people showed up, including my mother. The question I have is do you remember those lean and mean days?”

  “Short lived, I seem to recall.”

  “This is part of the job,” he continued, his smile bigger than mine. Of course, his entire objective was to make me appear to be something I wasn’t: a handsome bachelor eager to find his forever lady.

  According to him, that’s what sold books. I hadn’t known it was such a meat market. I also wasn’t in the market for a relationship.

  Carter Blackstone was my agent, a man so highly respected in the industry I continued to be reminded I was one lucky man. He was also the bearer of invisible whips and chains, items needed to drag me to a book signing. My place was behind my laptop, not schmoozing with readers. At least that’s what I continued to tell myself. “Then you do it.” I tossed the coffee, reaching into my pocket for a mint.

  Maybe he’d forgotten about how much money I’d added to his bank account over the last few years.

  He moved in front of me, the glare on his face favoring admonishment. “You know what? I would love to. I’d absolutely love to be in your position for one week of my life. One week of living in that lavish home nestled in the most pristine beach location in Miami. One week of wind flowing through my hair as I speed down A-1-A in my Lamborghini. One week of waltzing into any five-star restaurant without a reservation and still managing to snag the best seat in the house. And oh, yeah. One week of having one woman on my arm after another. Seven full nights of blissful, hard fucking. Woe is you.”

  I glared at him. “I don’t speed down A-1-A. I don’t go out to eat very often and I certainly don’t have a woman a night.”

  The chime indicated that the break was over.

  We glared at each other for another full minute. Ours was often a hate-hate relationship, but he’d made me millions.

  “Sit your ass down in the chair and sign the fucking books.”

  “Ask nicely.”

  “Sit your ass down and sign the fucking books, please or I’ll find a way to tank your new release.”

  I popped the mint, chuckling as I did. “No, you won’t and do you want to know why? Because you like money as much as everyone else.”

  “Bastard.”

  “You bet I am.”

  I slid into the seat just as the magical rope was pulled aside. As people rushed the table, I took a deep breath. Just another hour or so and I could head out. While I was thrilled at the early success of my latest release, including grabbing a number one spot on the New York Times bestseller’s list, my idea of celebrating wasn’t being pinned behind a table signing books until my hand cramped.

  You bet I adored my readers, but this was the fifth bookstore I’d been sequestered to in three days.

  However, I sat back with the same smile planted on my face and grabbed my Mont Blanc pen, raring to go.

  Losing track of time when presented with two hundred people standing in front of you was an easy feat, enough that when I glanced at my watch the next time, almost two hours had passed.

  With my head down, as another book was slid in front of me, I was surprised to see at least three dozen annotations throughout it. Only it wasn’t He Will Come, but my first publication written years before. That caught my attention.

  For a few seconds I was taken back in time to the reason I’d quit the FBI and started writing fiction novels in the first place. Gone Before Dawn had been a breakout success, the thriller putting me on the map of bestsellers. The six hundred pages had also been a love-hate relationship, forcing me to face my predatory demons.

  Not that I’d shucked them off permanently. They still came back from time to time, biting my ass in the middle of the night. Although with less frequency than before. There wasn’t a member of law enforcement who didn’t have that one case that never left.

  When I lifted my head, call me chauvinistic, but I expected to see a man standing in front of me. The reason for my expectation was simple. For the first few books of my career, I’d yet to fully comprehend adding any romance to my books, which had sold thousands of additional copies.

  Not that I’d ever give Carter credit, but he’d been right.

  The stunning woman peering down at me took my breath away.

  I’d experienced my share of beautiful women in my life, although lately passion had taken a backburner to deadlines and promotion. However, someone as stunning as the woman standing in front of me was impossible for any man to ignore.

  Curly ebony hair framing a heart-shaped face, thick lashes skimming across her cheeks, eyes the color of the Aegean Sea just before sunset, and soft, voluptuous lips that drew and kept my attention.

  “Mr. Callahan. I’ve been very much looking forward to meeting you.” Even her voice kept my rapt attention. There was a sultry, deep huskiness to it, the tone allowing my creative mind to drift away from reality to several dark and filthy places.

  I was at a momentary loss for words, something no one would ever accuse me of, and she seemed to sense I was having difficulty deciphering a perfect answer without making a fool of myself.

  “It’s a thrill to be able to meet you.” Her slight smile was knowing, the offer bridging the silence to keep my misguided playboy reputation intact.

  “And you are?” I noticed she held out her hand, rarely if ever done by readers. As soon as I accepted the gesture, an actual chemical spark occurred.

  There was a moment shared between us I should be able to describe given my creative abilities, but not a single word entered my mind. Why was I having such difficulty around a stranger?

  “Alexia.” She dragged the tip of her tongue across the plumpness of her bottom lip. “Would you mind signing this for me?”

  “A beautiful name and I don’t mind at all. What made you choose Gone Before Dawn?” As I scribbled out her name and short passage of endearment, I expected her to offer a flowery answer, but she remained silent. The air drifting between us was suddenly stale, the only scent traces of vanilla and jasmine, the fragrance warm and subtly seductive.

  “The way you captured the essence of the killer, the darkness ebbing and flowing inside his blackened soul called to me. Your descriptions were powerful and raw, a touch graphic while allowing the reader to take a journey into madness. Somehow, you managed to slide into the killer’s mind as if for briefly two sides of the same coin. If only for a little while.”

  Everything about her description seemed personal, as if she’d lived in the moment. Compliments of this nature, the sense that through my words on the page the readers had lived the danger suffered by the heroine provided a reason to continue with my art.

  A little-known secret. The compliment meant more than the seven-figure checks dropped into my bank account.

  However, the wistfulness in her eyes kept my attention. Maybe it had been a long time since I’d served in the capacity of law enforcement, but my instincts and training were the depicted on every page in every book. The lovely woman was hiding something. The look in her eyes appeared as if she was a thousand miles away, reliving a moment. From the book or something else?

  “I’m very glad I could provide you with thrilling entertainment.”

  My not so decent attempt at making a joke broke the dark and intense spell. She laughed, the sound sweeter than any music tapped into on my satellite radio. “Very much so. While I know your book was a work of fiction, it was based on a true crime. Wasn’t it?”

  Her challenge was delicious. “Now, what would make you say that?”

  Was I finally catching onto the art of flirtation? I doubted my poker-playing buddies would do anything but chastise my method. However, Alexia was enjoying the banter and that was all that mattered.