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      “DAMN THAT Alexis Baylor,” Jackson Witt muttered beneath his breath.

      Four years ago, Jackson vowed he’d never allow another woman to dupe him. That Alexis Baylor, a complete stranger, had managed to accomplish that feat not only made him feel like a fool, but also incensed him beyond reason. He was certain that sensation wouldn’t abate until this whole aggravating mess was over. And it would be…just as soon as he discovered Alexis Baylor’s greatest weakness and used it against her. Just as she’d used him.

      The woman’s underhandedness had hit him professionally as well as personally—right at the heart of his company, Extreme Software. He was still reeling from the knowledge that Fred Hobson, a man he’d hired on as part of his design team, had been a plant to steal the secret technology Jackson had spent years perfecting. The man had abruptly quit nine months ago and was conveniently and immediately picked up by Gametek, the company Fred had previously worked for before hiring on with Jackson’s firm. Gametek had obviously wasted no time utilizing Extreme Software’s design.

      In Jackson’s opinion, and with the facts he had at his disposal, it was no coincidence that the proprietary code Gametek had used in their new, revolutionary gaming software matched his exactly, or that Alexis Baylor, owner of Gametek, was a ruthless businesswoman who’d stooped to piracy to obtain success.

      With a disgusted grunt, Jackson tossed aside the Business Wire he’d printed from the Internet a week ago—his first shocking insight into Gametek’s violation. The company’s press release announced that their innovative action-adventure game, Zantoid, compliments of his technology, was scheduled for market introduction that fall. Seemingly overnight, Gametek, a San Diego-based gaming software company Jackson had never heard of before this fiasco, was suddenly a big competitor. After Gametek’s public statement, their stock shot to an all-time high and was holding steady…and would plummet to an all-time low by the time Jackson was done with Gametek, and Alexis Baylor.

      The stakes were personal, an unwelcome reminder of how women always wanted something from him, from his own mother to the ladies he dated. Usually it was his money and what it could buy that women found so attractive, and while Alexis Baylor didn’t have a direct hand in his wallet, she sure as hell had a direct source to his financial gain. He’d worked too damned hard to build his company, struggled through too many lean years to allow this woman to reap the benefits of something that was his.

      Glancing at the clock on the wall in his office, he noted the time of 8:50 a.m. He had another ten minutes before Mike Mansel arrived. Mike was his best friend, as well as the private investigator Jackson had hired for an in-depth, confidential report on Alexis Baylor. He wanted specific details on the woman, from what she ate for breakfast, to whom she was seeing, to what she did in her leisure time, and every idiosyncrasy, no matter how mundane, Mike could discover.

      Feeling edgy and impatient, Jackson pushed away from his desk and stood. He paced in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows dominating one entire wall in his Atlanta high-rise office, but the movement did little to burn his restless energy.

      He’d already discussed with his attorneys about filing a complaint alleging copyright infringement, unfair competition, trade secret violations, and a bunch of other legal mumbo jumbo, which included seeking an injunction against Gametek to keep their software from hitting the market while they battled specifics in court. While his lawyers explored all legal possibilities against Gametek, Jackson craved personal compensation—a way of evening the score between himself and Alexis Baylor.

      He wanted to take something from her, just as she’d stolen from him, something private and emotional that would never allow her to forget who he was, and what she’d done. He refused to let yet another woman use him for her own gain and get away with the deed. The type of information Mike unearthed on Alexis would determine Jackson’s plan.

      “Mr. Witt,” his young secretary’s lilting voice drifted through the intercom on his desk, “Mike Mansel is here to see you.”

      Anticipation swelled within Jackson, chasing away the more frustrating emotions that had been his constant companions for the past week. “Thank you, Rachel. Send him back to my office and hold my calls until he leaves.”

      “Yes, sir.”

      The line disconnected, and less than a minute later Mike, dressed casually in jeans and a polo shirt, sauntered into Jackson’s office in his normal, easygoing manner. Despite his carefree attitude, Mike was a highly respected P.I. Jackson had not only trusted him implicitly as a friend since their college days, but regarded him as a discreet businessman as well.

      Mike set his scuffed leather briefcase on a clear spot on the corner of the solid oak desk, and Jackson reached across the distance to shake his friend’s hand in greeting before sitting down in his chair.

      “Thanks for making this case a priority,” he said, knowing how abrupt his request for Mike’s services had been.

      The other man shrugged off his gratitude. “You can express your appreciation by buying me a cold beer sometime. Seems I owe you for all the business you’ve sent my way.”

      Mike was one of the few people who didn’t expect anything from him but friendship, so it was extremely easy to promote him and his P.I. agency. “You don’t owe me anything, Mike, and your fee will be in the mail by the end of the day. Now, what’ve you got for me on Alexis Baylor?”

      “Not much other than a normal, predictable, everyday schedule and some background facts that don’t add up to anything illegal or disreputable, personally or professionally.” Mike sprawled his long, lean body into one of the beige leather chairs in front of the desk. “Sorry to disappoint you, Jackson. The woman is so damn clean she squeaks.”

      Jackson knew better than to believe Alexis was completely guileless and led an exemplary life free of any infractions or misdeeds. Not after he’d discovered she’d used one of her own as a mole to unearth secret information from his company.

      A wry smile tipped the corner of his mouth. “Maybe that’s because she depends on someone else to do her dirty work.”

      “That may be,” Mike conceded, “but I spent five solid days of surveillance and gathering information on her, trying to find something to lend credence to your claim that this woman is ruthless, and I’m telling you, there’s nothing remotely unscrupulous about her that I could discover.”

      “Consider her a good actress, because I have Gametek’s press release that states otherwise. She stole my technology through Fred Hobson, and I want to even the score.” He tapped his pen on his blotter impatiently and rerouted them back to the business at hand before his friend could argue further. “Tell me what you did find on her.”

      Mike stared at him for a long