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more appealing.
    Except that prim and proper Jane Dexter wasn’t the sort to fall into bed with a professional criminal. He’d have to overcome all her misgivings, all her doubts, all her very strong defenses.
    The thought was challenging. Could he make someone want him so much she’d be willing to turn her back on years of security and ethics? The question had never come up before. The women he met knew he was a well-paid, unmarried lawyer of healthy habits and well-mannered disposition. They were running no danger at all getting involved with him.
    With Jane it was a different matter. If she ever went to bed with him she’d be taking untold risks. If she went to bed with him it would be an act of faith and trust such as he’d never experienced. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted it.
    “This is it,” Jane said abruptly.
    For a moment he didn’t know what she was talking about. And then he looked at the heavy walnut door in front of them, the raised bronze lettering announcing the executive offices. “In there?”
    “Where else? You told me there wouldn’t be anything in Richard’s lab, and I expect you’re right. Uncle Stephen’s office is the best place to start.”
    Uncle Stephen’s office, he thought glumly. He’d been hoping to back her into a corner in some empty little lab. “All right,” he said easily, reaching for the doorknob. The heavy brass handle didn’t budge.
    Jane was watching him, her eyes steady and curious behind her wire-rimmed glasses. “I don’t suppose you brought a key for this one?”
    “No sarcasm,” he uttered. “We’ll have to be inventive.” The idea of breaking into an office with his gold American Express card would have appealed to his sense of humor if he had any kind of assurance he’d be successful. He pulled the thin sliver of plastic from his wallet, squatted down, and tried to look as if he knew what the hell he was doing.
    It didn’t help having Jane breathing down his neck. He could catch a slight trace of the perfume she was wearing, something faintly flowery that was nevertheless more sensuous than innocent. He spared himself a brief glance over his shoulder at her intent face. Plain Jane indeed. He wanted to push her over onto the too-expensive carpeting that lined the hallway and forget about her damned brother.
    He turned his attention back to the task at hand. He heard the little click, and ignored it, refusing to believe it would be that easy.
    “You did it,” Jane whispered, reaching past him and turning the handle. The weighted door swung open.
    “Of course I did.” He rose to his full length, towering over her, hoping it was too dark for her to notice his astonishment. “Of course it took me a little longer than usual.”
    “I’ll start with the receptionist’s desk,” she cut in. “Why don’t you check out Uncle Stephen’s office?”
    The moment he saw the bank of teak filing cabinets he knew why she’d given him the good part. He had no hope whatsoever that the files were unlocked, and one desultory little yank proved him correct. Jane Dexter probably expected him to use his much-abused American Express card on each one of those file cabinets, something he wasn’t about to do. It had been dumb luck the first time. He had no faith at all in his ability to repeat that particular miracle.
    He didn’t have to. Tremaine hadn’t locked his desk, and sitting in the top drawer was a small gold key ring. The man was either innocent of wrongdoing, or supremely self-confident. From what little Sandy had heard of Stephen Tremaine, he had a very good notion it was the latter.
    He was halfway through the files when Jane joined him. She sat cross-legged on the floor, leafing through the folder he’d handed her, her head bent like a studious little girl. She must have felt his eyes on her, for she looked up, directly into his face.
    “You’re awfully good at this sort of thing,” she said. “The files were locked, weren’t