Chapter 3

      What was her problem? Skylar scowled. She’d performed similar tasks, all under the guise of her job, in the past several years. Of course, she hadn’t slept with any of her suspects’she would go only so far, even for her precious job.

      But, she admitted the truth to herself, none of them had been as sexy as Matt Landeta.

      Her sources had been right. She hadn’t been prepared for the man in the flesh. She could only hope as time went on she’d grow immune to his considerable masculine charms. Considering the model/actress/centerfold type of woman he usually attracted, he probably wouldn’t even notice an ordinary woman like her. Which meant she’d have to work that much harder.

      Talia whined as though she understood. Leaning down, Skylar kissed the top of her furry little head. God, she loved that dog. She didn’t know what she’d do without her.

      A sharp tap on her door startled her out of her pity party. Jumping to her feet, she slipped into the awesome shoes and smoothed down her skirt. Talia barked, only once in warning, before a hand signal from Skylar had her lying back down.

      Willing her heartbeat to slow, Skylar took a deep breath and pasted on a friendly smile before she opened the door. But it wasn’t Matt, and her stomach clenched. A man who had to be José Nivas stood there, his hard gaze sweeping over her as though he was undressing her with his eyes. And the look he gave her wasn’t friendly. Definitely not friendly.

      She stared right back. Short and stocky, he’d decorated his olive skin with multiple tattoos. He had the tough look of a man who’d spent time in prison and now didn’t care what anyone thought of him.

      One corner of his mouth lifted in a sneering sort of smile. “Hey,” he said, crossing his arms.

      Straightening her spine, she speared him with a look. “Yes? Can I help you?” Steel and ice rang in her tone, along with the tiniest tremor that she couldn’t manage to suppress.

      Worse, he noticed it. Shaking his head, he took a step back. “Calm down, lady. Matt sent me to bring you up to the house for supper.”

      What the hell was wrong with her? She’d never, ever had this much trouble with an assignment before. Refusing to allow herself to feel foolish, she nodded. “Just give me a second, okay?”

      Without waiting for an answer, she pulled the door closed, shutting him out. Taking deep breaths, she rummaged in her jewelry bag for the chunky silver necklace and dangly earrings she usually wore with this particular dress.

      Meanwhile, Talia continued to regard her curiously. José’s appearance hadn’t alarmed her pet, and the dog was a damn good judge of character.

      Which, if she stopped to think about it, was odd. Talia shouldn’t like either of the men.

      Once she had her jewelry on, she grabbed her purse and her camera and opened the door again.

      Holding on to the side rail, she made her way gingerly down the three metal steps, hoping her sky-high heels didn’t trip her up. Watching her from the shade of a huge mesquite tree, José made no move to help her.

      Nice guy.

      “Be good, Talia,” she murmured before closing the door.

      They walked together in silence all the way to the house. Or rather, she trailed along behind him, noticing he made no move to slow his steps in allowance for her heels. That was okay, she told herself grimly, because she refused to hurry to try to keep pace with him.

      By the time they reached the back patio, even though she knew his actions were deliberate, she had to tamp down her fury as José held open the door. The slight smirk on his face told her he expected a reaction. Clearly, the battle lines were drawn.

      Summoning her fake bubbly persona, she beamed up at him. “Thank you so much for being kind enough to come get me.” Then, without waiting for an answer, she swept past him, her head held high. She didn’t bother to check to see if her refusal to let him antagonize her had registered.

      The instant she stepped inside the house, the aroma of lasagna or spaghetti or something Italian made her mouth water and her stomach growl. She’d managed to forget to eat lunch with everything going on, and whatever Matt was serving for dinner smelled amazing.

      Hmm. Maybe this assignment would have some culinary benefits, too? No doubt he had a full-time chef.

      As she headed in the direction of the kitchen, she steeled herself for her reaction to him.

      Matt looked up at her approach, his long-lashed eyes sweeping over her, approval shining in them. As she’d known she would, she felt his gaze like a punch in the gut.

      “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked softly.

      “Nope.” He offered her a confident grin. “Pour yourself a glass of wine and hang out, if you want.”

      Instead, she got out her camera. Even though she found she used it more like a crutch around him, she couldn’t resist snapping a few photos.

      “What are you doing?” Matt asked quietly after she’d taken a shot of his pasta boiling on the stove.

      Despite the way she felt her face color, she managed a casual shrug. “You never know what other articles I can get out of these shots. With your permission, of course. A food magazine might want a short piece on dinner at Matt Landeta’s, you know?”

      “No, I don’t know.” Despite his noncommittal tone, she could swear she saw hurt flash across his face. “I’m not that well-known.”

      “Maybe not on a national level, you’re not.” She smiled. “But around here, you’re sort of a legend. I’m thinking D Magazine.”

      “I didn’t know you were freelance.”

      “Yep.” She kept her smile steady. “Journalist and photographer for hire.”

      Again his gaze swept over her, as though he expected her to say something else. Like what?