Iron Will. B.J. Daniels

a curse as he drove toward a local café off the beaten path. The place served Mexican breakfasts, and he had a feeling Frankie liked things hot. She certainly got him hot under his collar.

      It wasn’t until they were seated and had ordered—he’d been right about her liking spicy food—that he sat back and studied the woman sitting across from him.

      “What?” she asked, seeming to squirm a little under his intent gaze.

      “Just that you know everything about me—”

      “Not everything.”

      “—and I know nothing about you,” he finished.

      “That’s because this isn’t about me,” she said and straightened her silverware. He’d never seen her nervous before. But then again, he’d never asked her anything personal about herself.

      “You jumped at this case rather fast,” he said, still studying her. She wasn’t the only one who noticed things about people. “I suspect it was to avoid whoever that was who kept calling you.” He saw that he’d hit a nerve. “Angry client? Old boyfriend?” He grinned. “Old boyfriend.”

      “You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

      “Am I? I don’t think so.” He took her measure for the first time since he’d hired her. She was a very attractive woman. Right now her long, dark hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. Sans makeup, she’d also played down the violet eyes. And yet there was something sexy and, yes, even sultry about her. Naomi wouldn’t leave the house without her makeup on.

      That thought reminded him of all the times he’d stood around waiting for her to get ready to go out.

      This morning Frankie was more serious, more professional, more hands-off. Definitely low-maintenance in a simple T-shirt and jeans. Nothing too tight. Nothing too revealing.

      And yet last night at dinner when she’d snuggled against him, he’d felt her full curves. Nothing could hide her long legs. Right now, he could imagine her contours given that she was slim and her T-shirt did little to hide the curve of her backside.

      “Why isn’t a woman who looks like you married?” he asked, truly surprised.

      “Who says I’m not?”

      He glanced at her left hand. “No ring.”

      She smiled and looked away for a moment. “Isn’t it possible I’m just not wearing mine right now?”

      Hank considered that as the waitress brought their breakfasts. “Are you married?” he asked as the waitress left again.

      “No. Now, are you going to tell me why you didn’t like Naomi’s best friend or are you going to keep stalling?”