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them.”
    “I’ll see you there then.”
    Justine opened her mouth to protest, but the line made a tiny click and went dead.

Chapter Six

     
    Mark pressed his foot on the brake and joined the snarl of cars exiting the expressway. Ahead of him, the Philadelphia skyline resembled a vertical pattern of prison bars that kept people locked inside the city.
    Damn, he’d forgotten how much he hated the urban sprawl. Whatever had possessed him to get tangled up with a woman like Justine Whitmore? A wry smile twisted his lips as he recalled his first glimpse of her, huddled in the corner of his office, clad in nothing but a few scraps of silk. Her luscious mouth had twisted into a sulky pout when she spotted him, and her eyes had narrowed into angry slits as she watched him striding up across the floor.
    His hormones had kicked in with a fury more fitting for a teenage stud than a jaded man of forty-two. Mark spun the wheel to avoid being hit by a battered white Toyota shoving in from the right. He expelled a tired sigh. What had caused him to take leave of his senses and dip his pen in that particular well of ink was obvious. Even now, his groin tightened at the memory of the attraction that had electrified the air in his office the instant he entered.
    There was something fresh, something innocent about Justine Whitmore, despite her glossy glamour and haughty demeanor. Before he learned what she did for a living, he could almost have believed she was a warm and vibrant woman who by some trick of fate had ended up living in the city.
    Then he found out that she worked in Public Relations, and adjusted his thinking. The woman could barely be classified as a human being. He wanted as little to do with her as possible. He’d be civil, he’d be polite, but he’d keep his distance, apart from the necessary physical part.
    It was like a dirty job that had to be done.
    He swung his truck into a lot, swearing under his breath when he saw the sign with prices. Almost ten bucks to park for a few hours! How in hell did people get by in the city? He killed the engine and hopped out. Exhaust fumes filled his nostrils and horns blared down the street. As Mark stopped to pick up a ticket from the attendant in stained jeans and a psychedelic polyester shirt, he gave a fleeting thought to the appropriateness of his own clothes.
    It didn’t matter. With a dismissive shrug of his shoulders, he strode off to find the restaurant. He wasn’t out to charm anyone. He just wanted to keep out of trouble, so he could get on with his life.
    Liar.
    He silenced the inner voice that whispered the truth at him, just like he ignored the tentacles of excitement that uncurled in his stomach at the thought of spending another night with Justine Whitmore.
    * * * *
    Justine adjusted her little black dress and threw a jacket over her arm. She was running a few minutes late, but it was the least of her worries. Her boss would be there to welcome the guests, and the restaurant on
Walnut Street
was only a couple of blocks from her condo at Academy House. She grabbed her evening bag and hurried out to the elevators.
    All day her fingers had itched to dial the number to Sheriff Taylor’s office. By late afternoon, she knew that if he really intended to make the three-hour drive to Philadelphia , he’d already be on the road. And if they were supposed to be madly in love, she could hardly call his office and ask for his cell phone number without appearing to be a scatterbrained idiot.
    She would just have to brazen out the situation if he turned up in his khaki uniform, looking like a straggly lion amongst a flock of smartly shorn sheep.
    Justine sighed as she raced in her high heels along the uneven pavement, avoiding the steam rising from the vents. She hadn’t found a chance to explain to Steven and Sandra that they might have an extra guest. But the lack of opportunity to talk to her boss and his wife hardly mattered, as she wouldn’t have known what to say