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having a man on her couch who wanted to tie her dad — and possibly her, even though he claimed not — to a forgery ring wasn’t what had her on edge, unable to sleep. She envisioned Ethan lying on her red floral couch in merely a pair of boxers, sleep softening his facial features and his lean, muscular body, allowing him to look relaxed and even more attractive. Her body went warm all over, causing her face and chest to flush. How could she be so physically attracted to this man? Besides him wanting to incriminate her dad, he was too cynical, always thinking the worst of people, never trusting anyone. Just like her dad.
    In reality, she knew Ethan wasn’t lying practically naked on her couch, nor was he sleeping. He was likely posted on a chair facing the door, gun drawn, prepared to pounce the moment he heard the slightest movement in the hallway. It felt comforting to have someone else in the condo. To not only feel safer, but not so alone.
    She felt a sense of appreciation toward Ethan for having checked on her family, even though he was simply doing his job. Earlier that evening, she’d been afraid to go to her dad’s to investigate the break-in while it was dark and the intruder might return. Curiosity about her family had lured her to the computer, but she’d reminded herself that finding them could destroy not only her life, but also theirs.
    In no frame of mind to make a rational decision, she’d instead gone online and spent several hours searching auctions for the middle market artwork her gallery represented currently and over the past few years. None of the major auction houses had sold any of the same works she’d sold and didn’t have any of her gallery’s paintings scheduled for sale. Nothing had shown up in reference to private sales either. Ethan might not consider this concrete evidence, but at least it was a start if he began investigating her or her dad.
    She refused to believe Ethan’s theory that the break-ins were somehow related to her dad having resumed his life of crime. But he made a good case against the mob not being involved. But if not the mob, then who was responsible for the break-ins and what were they after?

Chapter Six
    Olivia walked into the living room just after five-thirty, as daylight was peeking around the red beaded drapes covering the floor-to-ceiling bay windows. Ethan sat on the red floral couch paging through a
Cosmo
magazine, his stocking feet propped up on the wooden table next to an
Art Digest
. He looked right at home, except for the gun resting on the couch alongside him.
    No bed head, wrinkled clothes, or signs of having slept, Ethan looked the same as he had earlier that morning when he’d raced into her condo. She should have showered and put on makeup, but her body needed caffeine worse than she needed to impress Ethan Ryder. At least she’d thought so until seeing him sitting on her couch looking incredibly sexy. She smoothed a hand over her wild hairdo. The corners of his mouth curled into a smile and his gaze softened as it traveled down over her pink jogging suit, which molded against her curves a tad. Heat crept across her cheeks and down her neck.
    His gaze sharpened, darting up to meet hers, as if he suddenly realized he was checking her out. “Ah, I could use some coffee.”
    She swallowed hard. “Oh, sure. Coffee sounds great.”
    The spacious kitchen, done in canary yellow walls with white trim and white painted cupboards, suddenly seemed small as Ethan stood directly behind her, peering over her shoulder while she opened a cupboard door. If she turned around, their bodies would be practically flush against each other.
    She tried hard to focus on the coffee selections. “I have Blue Mountain, vanilla, hazelnut … ”
    “Just plain black coffee will do the trick.” He stepped away, and she let out a discreet sigh of relief.
    He relaxed his hip against the white countertop and perused the kitchen. “Nice place you’ve got