Improper Conduct, Page 2

  “So why no big police hunt?” Nick asked again. “Why no private investigators? You make a fuss if your father won’t.”

  Her doing so would be the end of everything, Isabel thought, and yet, if push came to shove, she would do what she had to. Only not now. Not when there was a possibility that Nick could help her.

  “That wouldn’t be appropriate at the moment,” she said simply.

  “So you still jump to your father’s tune.”

  Heat seared her neck, making Isabel want to shake the man until he agreed to help her. But all she would shake was his complacency, not his conscience. In the past Nick had tended to let things slide unless he got really angry. Then you didn’t want to be on his bad side. But his good side made up for those other times. At least it had. She really didn’t know him anymore.

  That’s why she wasn’t about to tell him everything. Not yet. Not until she was sure of him.

  “My father is making a certain amount of sense this time.” Not an outright lie. She didn’t want to deceive Nick, but she was desperate to get to her sister before Louise came to harm. “He thinks Louise is trying to worry us and he has more important things that need his attention.”

  “More important than his own daughter who is out on the streets?”

  To his credit, Nick sounded appalled.

  Isabel swallowed hard. Senator William Grayson, respected politician, had used his family to launch his career, and once he’d been off and running…well, she and Louise had been put on the back burner, to be taken out and used as needed, just as had their mother, Natalie. She wondered if things would have been different if she and Louise had been born male. Her father had always mourned the lack of a son to follow in his footsteps…as if she couldn’t have.

  As it was, Isabel had spent a lifetime doing things her father wanted to gain his approval, just as Louise had acted up to get his attention. Other than being a model wife when necessary, their mother had always made her own way, her own life, not seeming to care that her husband the senator neglected her.

  Isabel only wondered if, after she resolved this newest crisis, she would have the courage to do the same and walk away from her father’s influence once and for all.

  “Maybe the good senator doesn’t want the spotlight shining his way when there’s something negative for the public to see?” Nick speculated.

  Isabel’s heart skipped a beat. He always had been intuitive. But she wasn’t about to admit to anything, not yet, not until she was sure she had his loyalty.

  “My father is very careful about his reputation.”

  Isabel stopped mere inches from Nick. Not even touching him, she squeezed her thighs together to chase away her spontaneous response to his heat. She imagined it oozed from him in waves. She wasn’t immune to him, not even after all these years. Now she knew she wasn’t going to be able to put him and the past behind her so easily.

  But what was she going to do about it?

  Licking her lips, she said, “I don’t want a private investigator, Nick. I want you.” Horrified by her lack of will, she realized that she really did, in the most physical sense. “So will you do it? For me?”

  NICK SMOTHERED A LAUGH and noted how quickly Isabel flushed and backed off.

  Isabel Grayson didn’t want him and never had. She’d toyed with him—a “have” getting her jollies by stringing along a “have-not.” She’d probably been the richest girl in their high school and he’d been the poorest boy, for sure. But now the rules had changed. She wanted something from him and he wanted nothing to do with her. Now that the shoe was on the other foot, so to speak, he couldn’t help but wonder how that made her feel.

  “Did you really think that would work?” he asked.

  “Work?”

  “Your coming on to me.”

  She blinked and her expression changed. “Would that work?”

  For a moment Nick was flabbergasted. Was she really willing to do anything to get him to agree?

  The idea that he could have her in his bed set his imagination to work. He eyed the narrow trundle bed, thought about taking her right there, having her beg him for more. His growing erection throbbed as he turned his attention to her body, so much fuller, more tempting than it had been as a teenager. He imagined slipping his hand up the inside of her leg—her suit skirt was short enough—and teasing her until she begged him to plunge his fingers into her wetness, just as she used to all those years ago.

  For a moment, he was tempted to see how far he could go, if he could actually get to her, but Nick knew Isabel didn’t mean it any more than she had meant anything she’d said to him when he’d been in her thrall. She was a Grayson, a political animal, and he had to remember that. She would do anything, say anything, to get what she wanted.

  Only when the time came for payout…well, then, no doubt, she would change her story.

  “How’s business?” Isabel suddenly asked.

  Startled by the abrupt change in subject, Nick said, “Excuse me?”

  “No one seems to have an address for you other than this one.” Isabel looked around the studio, her gaze stopping at the rumpled trundle bed. “No apartment, which suggests you might be short of money.” She turned back to him and her expression told him she thought she was in control once more. “I’m not short of money, Nick, as you noted earlier. So how much?”

  His gut tightened. She was trying to buy him with money—the thing that had stood between them when they were teenagers.

  Nothing had changed.

  “I don’t want your money.”

  “Then what do you want? Work? I can get you work.”

  “Your father’s next campaign?” he asked, knowing what the answer would be. “Can you guarantee that I can produce his commercials?”

  Now that would be payback worth savoring, but only if he got it in writing.

  “I—I don’t have control over Dad. But I have other contacts and I can see what I can do.”

  “Not interested.”

  The only thing he was interested in was seeing how far she was willing to go to get what she wanted, Nick thought, his gaze brushing the full breasts that couldn’t be hidden by a business suit. It would be an intellectual exercise only, of course, he thought as he steeled himself against an instantaneous reaction to her.

  “What else do you want?” she asked, her voice suddenly hollow. “Name it.”

  He wanted her. Here. Now. Hell, anytime. Maybe then he would be able to get her out of his system.

  That she’d broken his heart, had left him with nothing inside, didn’t seem to matter. She’d driven him away and into the worst year of his life, a year of hopelessness, a year in which he’d done things he wasn’t proud of to survive.

  Isabel didn’t know that, of course, and why would she care unless she got a taste of it herself?

  Or would she even care then? he wondered, a flash of brilliance hitting him. He knew exactly how to get rid of her.

  An ironic smile curling his lips, Nick said, “You would never go for it, Isabel. If I were to look for your sister—and I say that with great reservations—you would have to come with me.”

  “Of course, I would expect to.”

  Isabel suddenly came alive, relief making her shine, giving him a glimpse of the girl she used to be. Rather, the girl he’d thought she’d been.

  She went on. “I’ve been looking for Louise myself since she left home. I’ve even driven through this neighborhood—her friend Rosalyn lives in Wicker Park and Louise has spent a lot of time around here, including that visit the other day—”

  “Whoa, I don’t think you have the big picture here, Isabel. When I say look, I mean from the inside.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The streets, Isabel. You’ll have to give up your cushy home and your nice clothes and your meals in fine restaurants. You’ll have to accompany me along the dangerous city streets of Chicago like a runaway, panhandling and sleeping in hovels who knows where.”


  And for a moment, one foolish moment, Nick hoped she would agree to his terms.

  “What?” She seemed shocked. “Why?”

  “You want to find someone living on the streets, you walk in their shoes.”

  The color drained from her face. “You think Louise is living on the streets?”

  “Where else? Hotels don’t open their doors to runaways, unless she’s using Daddy’s credit card.”

  “Louise has her own credit card, but she’s not using it. I checked.”

  “Smart girl. She doesn’t want you to find her.”

  “But there are other places…something!”

  “And you haven’t exhausted them?”

  “The ones I know about or was told about, yes. I went to a couple of shelters, but they say the kids they take are with parents.”

  Nick nodded. “There are only a few shelters in the metropolitan area that take in homeless teens and those are funded privately. So runaways don’t normally go to shelters.”

  “Dear God, then how do they survive?”

  “Any way they can, Isabel. Begging…conning…prostituting themselves.”

  Finally the magnitude of her sister’s situation seemed to hit her. White as a sheet and shaky, to boot, Isabel took the chair he’d offered her a moment ago.

  “Oh, Louise, Louise,” she murmured, and the sound was so heart-wrenching that Nick almost gave way and agreed to find the girl himself.

  No! He wouldn’t do it. Wouldn’t put himself through that hell again. What was he thinking? Isabel Grayson was poison to him. She’d nearly ruined him. He had to keep that uppermost in his mind.

  “I think we’re done here,” he said, rising to escort her to the door.

  “No, we’re not. You made me an offer—”

  “I said if,” he reminded her. “And that’s a big if.”

  “I’ll come with you,” she whispered. “I’ll live on the streets. I’ll do whatever I have to, to find my sister.”

  Nick steeled himself to the desperation in her voice. He understood desperation, had lived with it for years. He understood the streets, too. Understood they could be death to kids. Not that most didn’t survive somehow. But the streets changed them. Hardened them. Made them look at everything around them with suspicion. He felt sorry for Louise, even if she was a Grayson.

  More important, Nick reminded himself, he knew Isabel. He’d hoped never to see her again…had hated her for a while…but had never been able to get her out of his system. Now here she was, big as life, more beautiful and tempting than ever, begging for his help.

  But she could afford to buy help, another part of him argued. She’d simply refused because her father wanted things done discreetly. Well, the hell with what Senator William Grayson wanted. This time, the ball wasn’t in Grayson’s court. The senator wasn’t going to pull the strings in Nick Novak’s life!

  “Hire a private investigator,” Nick said again, knowing Isabel could be his undoing and that he would be crazy to risk himself again.

  “No, please, Nick,” Isabel pleaded, rising to face him. “Help me and I’ll do anything you say.”

  Her classic features were flushed and open and a strand of pale blond hair dared to stray out of place over her cheek, begging to be tucked back behind her ear. Staring at her, Nick felt himself tighten. Beneath that elegant beauty, Isabel Grayson still smoldered. He could practically smell the telltale musk signaling to a man that a woman was in heat.

  God help him, she was still the biggest temptation he’d ever tried to resist, and he craved her more than anything. Though they’d only spent that one night together in complete abandon, she had ruined him for other women. He’d spent years comparing, wondering what she would be like now….

  He was a fool!

  Despite the fact he wanted in the worst way to turn his back on her, he wanted Isabel even more. If only it could be on his terms this time.

  But he knew it wouldn’t happen.

  Even so, the words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. “The nights get lonely on the streets, Isabel.” He moved closer, a threat to her neat and pretty life. “I don’t like being lonely.” He hooked that stray silver-blond strand with a finger and remembered what it had been like to run both hands through her hair when she’d worn it loose down her back. “You want me to find your sister?”

  “Yes, please.”

  He stepped even closer so his breath feathered her face. She shivered in response but didn’t give way. He felt himself weaken. An internal battle ensued about whether or not he should cave. Unless he did something fast, something to make her turn tail and run, he would be lost.

  “Fine,” he murmured seductively. “Then you not only keep me company, you keep me warm at night. Deal?”

  That should do it. Now she would look at him with contempt and storm out that door.

  Isabel’s momentarily shocked expression faded, leaving one that was neutral and indicative of a woman in control.

  Her full lips parted slightly, and she licked them before saying, “Deal.”

  2

  HE’D BEEN HAD.

  That was the first thought that crossed Nick’s mind as he registered Isabel’s too easy agreement.

  She appeared too confident, too controlled. She probably figured he would somehow find Louise right off the bat and then she wouldn’t have to come through with her part of the bargain.

  Irritatingly, he was far too eager for her to meet his challenge to keep him warm at night.

  Crossing his arms over his chest, he said, “I don’t believe you.”

  “Don’t believe what?” she asked. “That I care enough about my sister to do whatever it takes to find her? Or is it that you question my ethics?”

  The way she said my made him think she questioned his. Understandable. Isabel believed he’d been serious about the deal. She had no way of knowing he’d been looking for a way out.

  Moving away from him and examining his camcorder, she murmured, “So…runaways…why choose that subject for your documentary?”

  “I think it’s a growing problem in too many dysfunctional families.”

  “And you think that you can find a solution?”

  “That’s not my job.”

  “Then what is your job?”

  “To turn my lens on a specific aspect of society and make people think about it.”

  “You want your audience to think about runaways. And then what?”

  “In the best-case scenario, do something.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like help one kid on the street,” he said. “Or better yet, learn to recognize the warning signs and do whatever it takes to stop a kid from running before it happens.”

  Isabel stopped cold and glared at him. “Are you telling me I should have known Louise was about to run?”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t say that.”

  “I don’t know how anyone could say for certain what’s in another person’s mind.”

  “All depends on how you approach it.”

  “How do you approach it? I mean, how do you get information out of people?”

  “I approach it without judgment,” he said. “I simply turn the camera on the kids and they spill.”

  “Spill?”

  “Their guts.”

  “That easy? You just put the camera on a kid and he gives you his life’s story?”

  “Well, not always, but there have been moments. Why not let me show you?”

  “Sure, I’d like to see some of your documentary footage.”

  “I was thinking more in terms of a live demo,” he said.

  Nick took Isabel by the arm and swept her back toward the camera and the stool that he’d placed before it. “Sit.”

  “And what?”

  “Talk.”

  “Me? About what?”

  Rather than answering directly, he indicated that she should take the seat. Seeming reluctant only for a moment, she did. Then he flipped on the grid lights that gav
e her face and hair dimension, and he checked the viewer. He zoomed in tight on her features. On her lips. Full, tempting lips.

  He remembered their taste, their feel on his tongue.

  Gut tightening, Nick zoomed out to a medium shot from the waist up, hit the record button and stood back so that, looking through the lights that shone on her, Isabel wouldn’t be able to see him clearly in the shadowed area behind the camera.

  “So what’s the object of this game?” she asked, seeming in control once more.

  “Tell me about yourself.”

  She blinked, then said, “Isabel Grayson…twenty-eight…single…majored in political science…work as a press liaison for my father, Senator William Grayson.”

  “Tell me about yourself,” Nick repeated, wanting to hear about her, not about her father.

  She seemed confused for a second before starting again. “I’m smart…determined…loyal.”

  “Tell me about yourself,” he said for a third time, wishing for some insight to the real woman.

  Exasperation replaced confusion as she demanded, “What is it you want from me?”

  A loaded question if ever he’d heard one. He wanted everything she had to give. He wanted her in his bed, where he would make up new ways to take her. But he wasn’t about to go there, not now. And if he were smart, he would never go there, he thought, suddenly realizing that she still had the power to affect him, maybe even destroy the part of him that had never fully recovered.

  So what he said was “Something you’re not giving me.” Honesty was what he wanted.

  “Obviously, but what?”

  “Tell me one thing that no one knows about you.” Something that would tell him there was more to her than he feared, something that would help him figure her out.