Karen Kelley
ISBN 0-7582-1173-2
Mass Market
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If At First You Don’t Succeed…
There are good and bad things in an undercover cop’s life. Mistaking the police chief’s luscious daughter for a prostitute? Bad. Finding out the babe is a black belt who will soon be posing as your wife on a sting operation? Oh, so good. For Conor Richmond, playing house while trying to crack a burglary ring means a chance to make amends to Jessica Nelson—by making sure their charade looks and feels blissfully real…
Try Again…
Jessica comes from a long line of cops—shoot, her teething ring was a pair of handcuffs—and she’s had it. She wants a normal life with a husband who doesn’t think procedurals are foreplay. Still, if going undercover will save her dad’s job, she’s willing to do it. But her resolution to keep her cool around the smug, sexy Conor—a man who can arouse her with one naughty wink—will be the hardest thing she’s ever done.
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Jessica Nelson was out to impress only one person today. It was going to be a damn good impression. She wouldn’t settle for anything less.
She adjusted her rearview mirror and caught a glimpse of her reflection. One eyebrow cocked upward. She could easily see herself as the poster girl for female real estate agents across the country. I am woman, hear me roar!
John Bitters would make an offer for the property and she’d prove to her family once and for all she could make it in a job outside law enforcement, the fire department and the blasted medical field. She’d turned in her badge…and made the right decision.
Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. Yes, it was the right decision.
“You are a female,” she told herself with conviction. “No more uniforms. No more guns. No more being Jess, one of the guys.” She drew in a deep breath—just like the spiritualist had taught her on the discounted CD she’d found in a bookstore bin. “Yom-da-da-da-da-da.”
This was her day to shine.
POP! Psssssstttttttt! Thump—thump—thump—thump…
She flinched. Or maybe not.
Damn! Not today. She slapped her turn signal on and limped her car into a vacant parking lot. No, not today of all days. She eased her foot down on the brake and when the car jerked to a stop, shifted into Park. Great, she thought as she glanced around. The streets were practically deserted on this side of town, and she knew why: broken windows, bottles and graffiti decorated the buildings. If she called a service station it would be at least an hour before anyone showed up.
One glance at her watch and she began twisting the top button on her blouse. She was supposed to meet John in ten minutes. She had everything timed so she wouldn’t appear overeager to sale him the property. Now, she was going to be late.
Deep breaths. Calm. She closed her eyes. “Yom-da-da-da…”
Oh, screw it. She’d just change the damn tire and if she was late, she’d apologize. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t changed a tire before. Maybe growing up with mostly male cousins and a brother hadn’t been that horrible. She’d come away with a few useful talents.
She opened the door, grabbed her keys out of the ignition, and hit the button that popped the trunk. Good thing she had a spare—even if it was the doughnut. The smaller tire would get her to her appointment, then to a service station.
She cringed as she strode past the flat tire. They were practically new.
Once she was at the back of the car, she raised the trunk and leaned inside, flipping aside the gray carpet so she could get to the spare. You’d think the manufacturer would…
“Hey, baby. I like what you’re showing me so far, but I think you can do better than that.”
