Chapter One

“Thanks very much. Just put the suitcase on that luggage rack.”

Emma Holder overtipped the bellman, grateful to be rid of the long flight, the chaos in the lobby and the ride to her floor in the crushed elevator. She just wanted to strip off her clothes, take a long hot shower, and order a bottle of wine before she had to face the opening day of the conference tomorrow.

Tossing her suit jacket on the bed, she released the clip pulling her hair back and shook her head, letting the thick brown unruly waves tumble to her shoulders. She was definitely not looking forward to the next two days of legal workshops. It seemed to her she hadn’t had anything in her life for ages except legal briefs, research and depositions. Or worn anything except severe business suits to impress clients and judges, well-cut to disguise the flaring hips and what she considered “fleshy” thighs that no amount of exercise could seem to trim into shape.

Not that she hadn’t known exactly what she was getting into when she clutched her brand new law degree in her hand and stepped willingly into the established law firm of Hannity and White. She just didn’t know she’d be putting her sex life completely on hold. She’d heard wild stories from other attorneys about the flirting and hooking up that went on after hours. Too bad she hadn’t reached that part of her career yet. Of course, that gave her more time to hopefully get herself into shape. Men were such guys, with their Playboy ideals of perfection. She wondered if they ever looked at themselves in the mirror.

Sighing, she knelt in front of her suitcase to open the combination lock and pull out something comfortable. When she spun the locks and they didn’t catch, she bit her lip in frustration. Swiping her palm over the lock so she could try again, she carefully and slowly moved each wheel to the exact sequence of numbers in the combination, pressed the release latch and…nothing.

“Damn!” she shouted, resisting an urge to bang her head on the offending piece of luggage.

Taking a deep breath, she set the numbers one more time. Ten minutes later she was ready to commit murder—on the suitcase or preferably the people who manufactured it. Her frustration level was off the charts, her hair hung wildly around her face and anger surged through her body.

Finally, at her absolute limit, she looked around the room for anything to help her open the freaking suitcase. Atop the minibar she spotted plates and an assortment of cutlery, including a sharp paring knife. Ignoring the damage she was doing to the expensive leather, she drove the knife into the fabric around the lock and pried and cut and pulled, finally slicing a gash the length of the leather and yanking back the top. Tossing the knife aside, she reached inside the luggage to pull out a robe and…stopped, her eyebrows nearly arching off her forehead.

Instead of the neat rows of feminine items and clothing she’d packed so carefully, what she saw was an equally neat pile of men’s clothing, and items she’d never seen in anyone’s suitcase before. Fleece-lined handcuffs. A pile of silk scarves. Something with a braided leather hand that had soft strips of suede dangling from it. In purple, of all things! An assortment of liquids carefully wrapped in plastic. And some items she couldn’t readily identify.

She stared in shock, stumbling back a step or two. What the hell was this? These weren’t her things. Whose were they? Had her luggage been switched with that of a serial killer, or some other kind of deranged person?

She was still gaping at the contents when a knock sounded on her door. Slamming the top back down on the suitcase, she forced herself to focus.

“Who is it, please?”

“I’m just down the hall.” The voice was masculine, warm and deep, like thick syrup. “I think there’s been a mistake in our suitcases and they got switched.”

Hell and damnation! Wouldn’t you know it would be someone with a sexy voice?

“Can you describe your suitcase?” she called. She’d traveled often enough to know not to just open her door to anyone.

She could hear the sigh even through the heavy door. “Soft brown leather with a braided handle and a combination lock.”

Just like hers. Oh shit.

She started toward the door then stopped herself. “Wait a minute. How did you know you had the wrong suitcase?”

There was silence for a long moment. “I…managed to open it.” More silence. “How about you?”

She swallowed hard. “I…um…opened this one too. All right. We can’t very well do this through the door. But I warn you, I’m trained in martial arts.”

“I consider myself on notice.”

Emma suddenly realized how idiotic she was being. If the man really meant to harm her, he could have broken into her room or bribed a bellman for a key card. She just wanted to get this over with and order that wine.

“All right,” she told him. “I’m letting you in.”

She nearly stopped breathing when she pulled the door open and looked at the man standing there.

He was easily six feet, lean and muscular, with sun-streaked light brown hair, emerald green eyes and a square jaw. Everything about him said, Fuck me. You’ll love it.

He lifted the suitcase he was holding, identical to the one in her room, in both hands, holding it as if it was nothing. “I believe this is yours?”

Somehow she found her voice. “Yes. I have yours over there,” she waved in the general direction of the luggage rack.

He placed hers on the foot of the bed, then went to retrieve his own, stopping when he saw what she’d done to it.

“Did you attack it with heavy armor or something?” But there was a hint of humor in his voice.

“I-I’m sorry. It’s been a long day and I was just frustrated…”

“I see you’ve managed to rummage through everything.” He waited a moment for her to comment on the contents but she clamped her mouth tightly shut, daring a word to even break through.

“I’m sorry about the damage,” she told him.

“No problem. I wasn’t much kinder to yours.”

He paused again, as if waiting for a comment, but when she made none he simply lifted his luggage as if it weighed nothing and hefted it under his arm.

“Wait a minute.” A thought popped into her slightly addled brain. “How did you know it was mine that got switched with yours?”

“You have a business card taped to the inside of the lid, Emma Holder,” he reminded her. “It was a zoo down there, we obviously checked in at the same time and the two pieces are identical. I can understand a mix-up happening.” A grin teased at one corner of his mouth. “And I bribed the desk heavily for your room number.”

“You could have just had a bellman come up and make the switch,” she pointed out.

“And miss out on meeting the woman with the very sexy lingerie? Not a chance.”

Heat crawled up her face. “You went through my things?”

“No less than you did. Shall we call it even?”

Emma bit her tongue to keep from asking him what all the paraphernalia was he was lugging around. Her curiosity was killing her. “Well then. Thank you for helping to make the switch.”

“My pleasure.”

“You know my name, but you haven’t told me yours,” she pointed out.

“Luke Borelli. Pardon me if I don’t offer to shake hands.” He nodded at the luggage he was holding.

“Well. Thank you for making the exchange, Luke Borelli.”

He studied her for a moment, inquisitiveness stamped on his face, started toward the door, then stopped. “Why don’t I buy you a drink to make up for all the inconvenience?”

“Even after I hacked your suitcase to death?”

The smile that curled his lips was the sexiest she had ever seen. “I didn’t do yours very much good either. Come on. One drink. It’s a lot better than the cocktail party that’s planned for tonight.”

“Cocktail party?” In the fatigue of the trip and registering, she’d totally forgotten the big opening shindig. She cocked her head and let her gaze travel over him. “So, you’re a lawyer too, here for the conference?”

He chuckled. “Yes, but you have to promise not to tell anyone. I hate listening to all the bad lawyer jokes. Come on, one drink and we can part friends.”

Emma nibbled on her lower lip for a moment. She was sure she was about to make a major mistake but at last she nodded her head. “All right. I’ll meet you in the small lounge downstairs in thirty minutes.”

“Thirty minutes.” His eyes darkened slightly. “I’m looking forward to it.”