This investigation is getting very personal
P.I.-in-training Valerie LeRoy is dying to get into the field. So when a client asks her to spy on someone, the thrill of her own case is too tempting to refuse. Instead of a cheating fiancée, however, Val’s actually checking out P.I. Drake Morgan! Worse, she ends up working with the guy.
Their differing opinions on techniques—and the instant attraction—make the sparks fly. It’s almost impossible to focus on their arson investigation. As the hunt for the truth intensifies and their passion rivals the triple-digit temperature, she and Drake learn why Las Vegas is the city that never sleeps.…
The scrape of bar-stool legs against the floor interrupted Drake’s thoughts
In the mirror behind the bar, he observed a young woman sitting next to him. Even in this dim lighting, her hair gleamed like metal. Dye job or a wig. She wore so much eye makeup he couldn’t tell the color of her eyes.
His gaze dropped to her top—what little there was of it. A flicker of heat leaped in his chest as he caught the outline of her breasts straining the red, white and blue material.
She looked like a Fourth of July celebration about to pop.
“Like my top?” she asked in a Southern drawl.
He picked up her signals more clearly than if she’d banged a gong in his ear. Just because he picked them up didn’t mean he had to respond. Nope. He’d mind his own business and ignore her.
“It goes with my skirt,” she continued as though it were a two-way conversation.
He knew better than to look, but it was like telling Bambi to stay out of the forest. The skirt was thigh high and red. Below it, shapely legs in fishnet stockings ended in a pair of black stiletto heels with some kind of symbol on the side.
“It’s a fleur de lis,” she explained, pointing at her shoe with a frosty-pink fingernail, “for my boys, the Saints.” She grinned so wide, he saw she had a slightly crooked front tooth, which almost gave her a sweet, naive quality.
Clunk.
He looked stupidly at his phone lying on the floor and wondered when he’d let go.
Dear Reader,
I had so much fun writing Sleepless in Las Vegas, which follows up on the story of Val LeRoy, the best friend of Cammie Copello, the heroine in The Next Right Thing (Mills & Boon Superromance, March 2013).
I relate to Val, who has her heart set on being a private investigator. Nearly ten years ago, I had that same goal, and like Val, I had only a general idea what P.I.’s did when I started my internship. It’s one thing to watch Jessica Fletcher, the female sleuth in the old TV series Murder, She Wrote, or Nora Charles, the other half of the Nick and Nora private-eye team in The Thin Man film series. But it’s a whole other reality when you’re working a case undercover, trying to blend into your surroundings, hoping you don’t blow it! An experience Val and I share, by the way.
One reason I so enjoy writing for the Harlequin Superromance line is that the stories, like life, thrive on romance, family and love. The hero in this story, Las Vegas private investigator Drake Morgan, has given up on finding love, but Val hasn’t…for the most part, anyway. Although they share a passion for their profession, they seem to have nothing in common in their personal worlds. Their story is about two very different people, a case of opposites attracting, who struggle with giving and receiving, contentment and heartbreak. What they gradually learn is their hearts have more in common than they realize.
I love to hear from readers, so I invite you to drop by my website, colleencollinsbooks.com, and let me know how you liked Val and Drake’s story!
Happy reading,
Colleen Collins
Sleepless in Las Vegas
Colleen Collins
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Colleen Collins has written several dozen novels and two nonfiction books. She has also written articles for various writing organizations, including the Private Eye Writers of America and Romance Writers of America, and for periodicals such as USA TODAY and PI Magazine. Similar to the P.I.-intern Val LeRoy in Sleepless in Las Vegas, Colleen began her P.I. career being mentored by a man who drove her crazy at times—and vice versa—but they’re still together over a decade later.
To Elle Kaufman, with love
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
THE PHONE RANG, giving Val LeRoy a start. If it rang more than once or twice a day at Diamond Investigations, maybe she’d get used to its high-pitched jangle.
She swallowed the last bite of her lunchtime tuna-with-chutney sandwich while checking the caller ID. No name, but a 219 area code. She had been trying to memorize different area codes—after all, a phone was a private investigator’s most powerful tool. She wasn’t a P.I. yet, but when the day came, she wanted to be a knowledge bank in stilettos.
This incoming call was from...Michigan? No, Indiana. As she reached for the receiver, she noticed a glob of papaya chutney on her fingers.
Another jangling ring.
She didn’t want to sticky up the phone with her gooey fingers, but Jayne Diamond, her boss, insisted Val always answer using the handset, never putting the phone on speaker, to maintain the confidentiality of conversations. Rules, rules, rules. That woman had more than a reform