Uncovered. Lori Foster

Immediately her shirt stuck to her back, and even through her dressy, flat-heeled sandals, she could feel the scorching heat of the blacktop. As a concession to the weather, she wore a sleeveless cotton shirt and loose, flowing skirt. She slung a canvas bag over her arm and started in.

      She’d use the day at work as a distraction to get her mind off nude photos, thickheaded men, and her jackass ex-boyfriend. At the moment, there wasn’t anything she could do about any of them, so it was best not to dwell on it.

      Cool air-conditioning rolled over her the moment she entered the building. Though she was early, Dane and Alec, the P.I.s she worked for, already had a client in the inner office with them. They’d relocated from the city so they’d have more free time for their wives and kids. But it seemed their small town was rife with drama, and they often stayed busy. At least here, though, the cases were seldom all that threatening.

      Clair could hear their quiet conversation, see the movement of male bodies through opaque glass. She put her purse away and turned her computer on, then went straight to the coffeepot.

      She already had things underway when Dane stuck his head out the door. “Clair, would you mind bringing in some coffee?”

      “Not at all. It’ll be done in two more minutes.”

      “Thanks.” He ducked back inside.

      Making coffee wasn’t in her job description, but small requests never offended Clair. It helped that Dane and Alec were consummate gentlemen and didn’t take her, or her talents, for granted. As often as not, they carried coffee to her.

      A few minutes later, with sugar, powdered creamer and three mugs of steaming coffee on a tray, Clair used her foot to tap at the door. Alec opened it. He looked darker and more intense than usual, but then Alec could be a poster model for tall, dark and dangerous.

      He gave her a nod. “Nothing like caffeine to kick off the day.”

      Clair smiled. “Tough case?”

      “Different, that’s for sure.” He took the tray from her and she started to exit the office.

      “Hey, Clair.”

      At the sound of Harris’s voice, Clair froze in midstep. Oh no. Please, no. Slowly, wincing with dread, she pivoted stiffly to face him.

      He was at Dane’s workstation—the cursed photos spread out on the surface.

      Oh. Dear. God.

      Heat rolled from her chest right up to her hairline, making her dizzy with the shock of it. For a single moment, Clair thought she might faint, especially when Dane picked up the shower shot for a closer look.

      Alec rejoined the men, staring at her naked body with a frown. “Do you see any distinguishing marks? Moles or scars or anything?”

      Clair’s knees trembled, threatening to buckle.

      “No. No jewelry either.”

      Did she have time to run out and get her ears pierced?

      Dane shook his head. “Just lots of smooth skin. Maybe we should have these photos blown up.”

      Clair staggered back against the door. Blow them up? Blow them up! As in, make them…bigger? Her throat closed and she couldn’t draw breath, couldn’t say a single word. She tried to get out a denial, to dissuade them from that horrendous plan, but all that emerged was an appalled squeak.

      Harris glanced her way, did a double take, then rushed toward her. “Damn, Clair, you okay?” He caught her arms and physically forced her into a chair. Good thing too, because she was about ready to sink to the floor. Maybe through the floor if she got lucky.

      Over his shoulder, Harris said to Alec, “I think she’s been in the heat too long this morning. You got a cold cloth or something?”

      Alec was a man of action. Within seconds, he had a pad of paper towels, dripping with icy water from the rest room.

      All three big men loomed around her, Harris trying to slap the wet towels against her face, Dane fanning her with a stack of papers, and Alec taking her pulse.

      They’d seen her naked.

      It wasn’t to be borne. Never in her life had she known such bone-deep humiliation, and it numbed her.

      Harris reached for the top button of her blouse. “I’m going to loosen her clothes. She still looks too pale.”

      That brought Clair around. She shot to her feet, staggered, got steadied by six big hands, and shoved away from them all. She waved a fist with credible intent. “Touch my clothes and I’ll brain you.”

      Harris straightened. He still looked concerned. “You’re all right now?”

      She wanted to die. “I, uh…you were right. It was just the heat. I’m fine.”

      Dane cocked a brow. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

      Clair stared at him, aghast that he’d come to such a conclusion.

      Alec nodded. “Celia stayed light-headed when she was pregnant. Especially when she got too warm.”

      Laughing, Harris said, “Clair’s not even dating, so unless you can get pregnant from a toilet seat, I don’t think that’s the problem.” He again tried to reach for her top button.

      Clair swatted at him. “I’m not preg—”

      “She dates,” Dane argued. “Okay, not much, but I know a few months back she was seeing some guy.”

      Harris scowled. “She was?” He turned to Clair. “When were you dating? Who was he?”

      Ohmigod. No way in hell was Clair going to talk about Kyle. Not with his photographic efforts spread out in all their lack of glory on Dane’s desk. She swallowed, found her voice, and rasped, “Enough. From all of you.”