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MAR WAS DETERMINED to not act like an idiot when she saw Mr. Thomas later that evening. She lay in her bed surprised that she’d been able to sleep for a couple of hours. The alarm on her cell had chimed her awake, and now she had a half hour to shower and change.

Yawning, she stretched and moved her legs to the side of the bed, wishing she could sleep a few more hours. Finally, she pushed herself up and went into the well-appointed bathroom. The Four Seasons never skimped when it came to linens or bathrooms. She turned on the hot water and thought about her meeting with Mr. Thomas.

“What kind of detective am I that I don’t even know his first name? I talked to him for almost an hour.” She stared at herself in the mirror wondering how much longer she could hold up this charade.

The problem was, she was no detective. Not really. Everything she knew she’d learned from studying for her Ph.D. in clinical psychology with an emphasis on the criminal mind, and researching case files at the office. She was nothing more than a figurehead, though so far she’d been able to fool most of the agency’s clients.

Two years ago she was well on her way to becoming an FBI profiler, at least that was her dream. That had changed with her mother’s death.

Sad, since her mother was one of the best in the business. Of course, her mom, the founder of SIA, had also been a CIA agent, a fact Mar had only discovered a few months ago while digging through some private papers.

When she confronted her father about it, he’d said, “That part of her life was over long before you were born, hon. We don’t discuss it.”

Mar had tried to press him for more, but it was useless.

Obviously, Mar hadn’t picked up any of her mother’s special interrogation skills, because she’d let the matter fall.

She was good at subterfuge. She’d not only fooled the clients, but also several people at SIA headquarters. At first, when she fumbled and stumbled they believed she was still mourning her mother. She was lucky that a few of her friends, Chi, Katie and a couple of others knew the truth. They helped to hide the fact that she was in way over her head.

When it looked like everyone might figure out what was going on, she’d solved the case of a missing child by sheer luck. Mariska had been coming back from a trip to Houston when she’d stopped at a roadside barbeque joint for some ribs. There was a little girl alone in the restroom washing her hands. When Mariska saw her, she knew that it was Maddie Lennon, who had been missing for three weeks. There’d been Amber alerts and everything.

She’d checked the stalls to make sure the little girl was alone and then locked the bathroom door so no one could get in. Trying to be as calm as possible she told Maddie that she was a detective like on TV, and that she was safe. Maddie didn’t say a word but she didn’t try to run away. Mariska pulled out her phone and called the police.

The woman and man who’d taken the little girl had nearly beaten down the door until Mariska had shouted the police were on the way. The couple hadn’t made it to the restaurant’s entrance before the owner of the place pulled a shotgun and had them down on their knees. God, you had to love Texans. Later he told Mariska he knew that when they were willing to leave a child behind they were up to no good.

When the police arrived they took the couple into custody and Mar’s hands were shaking so bad she almost couldn’t unlock the door.

A few hours after that Maddie had been reunited with her parents. It was a happy ending and Mar was more determined than ever to be better at her new job. She studied the case files of the other investigators and brought in some of her best friends to work with the agency.

While she had no illusions that she would ever be a great investigator like her mother, she wanted to be legitimately useful. This assignment in Bangkok was a way to test herself even if she’d much rather be on vacation.

Now she was going into the underworld of a dangerous city with a sexy guy who had more secrets than she could ever imagine. Oh, she might not be the world’s greatest detective but she could read people. Mr. Thomas was hiding something, though her gut told her he was sincere in wanting to help her.

There was something about the man that made her heat from the inside out. She’d seen, and even dated, plenty of hot guys. None of them had pulled at her the way he did. None of them had ever quite caused her stomach to twitter with a fiery glance. Or made her tongue do crazy somersaults so that every sentence she spoke was an effort.

She blew out a big breath and stepped into the shower.

What she really needed to do was get her libido under control. After standing under the hot water for a few minutes and soaping off she turned the tap to cold.

“Brrrr.” Her teeth chattered.

It was amazing how frigid water could make a girl’s body behave. She had to concentrate on the case. Solve this one and you get a vacation. Then you can go back to being a figurehead behind your nice safe desk, in your nice safe office, researching cases for the other detectives.

Her mind wandered to Mr. Thomas.

Maybe she didn’t want to be safe any more.

“IT’S PROBABLY BEST IF we act like a couple looking for a good time,” Jackson said. Over a steamy bowl of Phonoodles she’d finally learned his name.

He took her hand in his as they walked down the street. She knew it was to protect her from the throng of people here in the red light district. She’d been a lot of places, but none as crowded as this. Well, maybe Times Square on New Year’s. But this wasn’t any special day. Between those in storefronts hawking their wares to street vendors with chickens and lizards hanging from their stalls, it was nothing short of overwhelming.

I don’t think I’ll be trying the lizard.

As his fingers wrapped around hers it was so easy for her to pretend that they belonged together. In the last hour over dinner her determination to be professional had wavered. He’d arranged it so they had a quiet table and that she had everything she needed. It was as if he were taking care of her.

At any other time she might have been annoyed with a man ordering for her, but with Jackson, well, he was different. Not only did he have a thorough knowledge of the language, he was in tune with her taste. The noodles were exactly what she wanted. The right hint of heat and curry.

“For someone who doesn’t live here, you certainly know how to speak Thai. You guys were talking so fast I couldn’t even pick up one of the few words I know.”

Jackson squeezed her hand, and the warmth seemed to spread through her limbs. This guy did things to her like no other.

“I travel a great deal and pick up languages as I go,” he said. “I guess some might say I have an affinity for it.”

They were on a busy street in the Banglampu district and only a few blocks from their destination. The small talk was Mar’s way of easing her nerves. She had let Jackson become a distraction and that was far from a good thing, especially since she had no idea what she would do once they arrived at the sauna and massage parlor.

Should I question the owner? Try to find out if they’ve ever seen or heard of Mr. Gladstone? That didn’t seem such a smart idea since people in these kinds of places valued confidentiality.

Mar wasn’t so naive that she didn’t know a couple of hundred dollars in the right hands could buy all the information she needed. That’s why she had more than a thousand tucked under her bra in a special pouch. The problem was how to know which palm to grease. That’s something they didn’t teach in the textbooks.

I should have called Katie and asked her what questions to pose. I don’t have a clue what I’m supposed to do once we get in there.

As they turned the corner she saw the neon sign. Her stomach churned.

Be a big girl and do the job. Follow procedure.

Thanks to her degree, and the studying and observing she’d done the last year, maybe she could at least fake her way through this thing. Gather the information. It was an easy first step. Mar almost snorted at that.

Jackson stopped halfway down the block and turned to her. “Are you okay? You seem nervous.”

“Nervous?” She repeated his words because she wasn’t sure what to say. As far as he knew she was a seasoned professional, a jaded detective who did this sort of thing all the time. “Of course not. Still a little jet-lagged.” Liar. “I’m trying to determine the best course of action. Deep thoughts and all that.” Shut up. Deep thoughts? What the hell am I saying?

Eyeing her curiously, he smiled. “Like I said before, it’s probably best to act like we’re together. If you don’t mind, I’ll take the lead. I’ll ask for a couples massage, then we can tag team them.”

At that her eyes snapped up. Naked? In a room with Jackson? Oh, my. “Sure, I’ll take your lead on this. You know the area and the people better than I do.” Her voice came out as a whisper.

“It will probably be easier to get information if we have a couple of the girls alone. While we’re getting the massage we’ll try to talk to them.”

Sounded like a great plan to Mar—one where she didn’t make an idiot of herself by running back to her hotel to hide under the covers. She would never do that, but she’d thought about it more than once throughout the evening.

There was one big problem in giving up—Stonegate had a one hundred percent success rate on closing cases and she refused to be the one to screw that up.

No. You will pay attention and help Jackson get the information you need. Pretend. Like theater class, assume the role of the doting wife. I’ll imagine he’s the man of my dreams—okay, that won’t be such a stretch.

Since he knew the language, Jackson would be doing most of the talking and she could follow along like a good little puppy. No one need ever know she was a terrified neophyte.

This might work out well after all.

“Great,” she murmured as they passed through the door into the tacky reception area. Deep red walls overpowered the small space and there were golden statuettes on every available surface. The art on the walls was of nude Asian women pleasuring themselves in a variety of positions. The place was one giant cliché, exactly what she thought of when she imagined a Bangkok massage parlor.

Mar swallowed hard and concentrated on the old woman behind the high desk.

“You American?” she said in English.

“Yes.” Jackson gave her a devastating grin.

She looked him up and down as if he were a piece of beef for sale. “Prices here.” She pointed up at a board behind her.

If Mar’s currency exchange rates were right in her head, this would be a cheap night. Couples massage was listed in Thai, French and English, and it was only a hundred. There was a dash and then, EXTRAS $200 American Dollars.

Mar didn’t want to think about what EXTRAS meant.

“We want the couples massage. No extras,” Jackson told the woman.

That last comment caused her to choke, and Mar stifled a cough with her hand.

“You pay first.” The old woman stuck out her hand.

Jackson pulled out some bills, making sure to separate a twenty to tip the older woman.

She winked at him and then pushed a button so that a door to their left opened. “Third door. Green one. You undress then push button by bed. Girls there in a minute.”

Undress? Mar’s hands trembled and she stuffed them into the pockets of her jeans. As she followed Jackson down the hall, she seriously wondered why she’d thought it a good idea to catch dinner before they began investigating. Her stomach didn’t seem to want to play nice, and it gurgled in a not-so-sexy fashion.

Taking a deep breath, she moved through the door when he held it open for her.

This room was a bit more Zen than the entry. There were two massage tables with what looked like clean sheets and blankets. There was a place on the back side of the door to hang clothing. Two candles burned on a shelf with a variety of bottled oils.

Jackson unbuttoned his shirt and hung it on one of the hooks.

Mar gasped. The man was beyond gorgeous. Well-defined muscles on his back led down to narrow hips. What intrigued her the most were the scars. She was no expert but more than one looked like it had come from a bullet.

He glanced back to look at her. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Nudity doesn’t bother me like it does some people. I’ll get undressed and then lay down so you’ll have some privacy.”

Mar’s hands waved madly of their own volition. “It’s no big deal. We’re professionals doing what it takes to get the job done. And if we get a great massage in the process, who’s complaining?” The words were lame even to her but she couldn’t seem to shut up.

“So are we expected to strip all the way down?” She turned her back as Jackson unzipped his jeans. “I’m not sure if I should wear my underwear or not. I never am. It’s crazy. I get massages all the time, but I’ve never had the courage to ask.” She kept blathering on, to her own chagrin.

She heard him move. “I suppose it depends on the client and their level of modesty. Doesn’t bother me. My lower back’s giving me trouble so I’m losing the shorts. Okay, I’m on the table. I’ll keep my head to the wall until you are under the sheets.”

Mar glanced over at the table and her body trembled with need. The man was nothing short of a god in her book. The sheet barely covered his lower half and she could see the outline of the world’s most perfect butt. He was bronze and beautiful.

Head in the game. He’s going to think you’re some kind of perv if you keep staring at him like he’s a meal. She forced her fingers to pull the T-shirt she’d been wearing over her head. Then she lost the jeans, bra and finally the pink lacy thong. She’d never once had a massage completely nude. This would be an entirely new experience for her in more ways than one.

Hurrying, she slid under the cool sheets. “Okay. I’m ready.”

Jackson turned toward her. “It’s going to be fine, I promise.”

“I know,” she said. “This is a bit unorthodox. I mean are we going to have to use the services of everyone we interview?”

Jackson chuckled. “That would be entertaining but time-consuming. No, it’s this place that caters to a certain level of clientele. I have a hunch we may find something out here. Don’t ask me why, but I always follow my hunches.”

It was a hell of a lot more than what she had to go on. “Well, what’s the worst that can happen? We get a massage. I’ve had worse assignments.” Not really, but she could at least pretend she had.

“You said it.” There was sadness, and perhaps a touch of deep regret in his voice, which made her look at him more closely. He sounded as if he’d been through hell.

Jackson pushed the buzzer and Mar took a big breath. This was going to be one to share with the girls back at the office. They’d crack up when they heard that she was naked in a room with a man getting a massage. She could almost hear Katie’s “Yeah, right. You had to get naked with a hot guy, and get a massage—for the job. Why can’t I get those kinds of cases?” Mariska smiled. Yes, her friend would give her a hard time, but if this worked and she found Gladstone, she’d also be proud of her.

Katie had made it her sole mission to protect Mariska, and to help her through one of the toughest times of her life when her mother had died. But that didn’t keep her best friend from joking with her.

Mar clasped her hands under her chin. She needed to focus. She didn’t want Jackson to think she was some kind of amateur.

You are an amateur. Yes, but he doesn’t have to know that.

She stole one more glance and found him smiling at her.

“Ready?” he said as the door opened.

No. She smiled back at him. What in the hell am I doing?