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No Regrets
Cindi Myers
Go to Spain. Take gourmet cooking class. Sleep with six men before I turn thirty…After a near-lethal accident forces her to reevaluate her life, Lexie Foster is finished with being Little Miss Conservative. And she has the to-do list to prove it. When she lands a job with private investigator Nick Delaney, it's clear that her dead-sexy boss would be an excellent candidate for a few of the more x-rated things on her list.Nick has his reservations, however. He may be tempted, but he can't forget about their cases. That is, until the night Lexie exercises her own brand of seduction…and proves to him that he will only regret the things he doesn't do.
“I have a proposition for you.”
Lexie leaned toward Nick, her voice low. “When was the last time you had a really good time?”
Words stuck in Nick’s throat. His pulse pounded in his temples and in his groin. He was close to giving in. Too close.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I have a business to run and I can’t be distracted.”
She smiled with a sly, knowing expression and rose. “All right, Nick. You’ve made up your mind and I respect that. For now.” She moved to the door and looked over her shoulder at him, that same self-assured smile still in place. “And just so you know, I’ll be making every effort to convince you to change your mind.”
He swallowed hard. “You don’t need to do that.”
“Oh, but I do.” The smile broadened. “Six months is a long time. I hate to think of spending all that time alone, don’t you?”
Dear Reader,
Like many of you, I’m a voracious reader. Of course, I adore romance books, but I also read nonfiction, history, mystery and suspense. I’m a big fan of private eye stories. Any time the old movie The Big Sleep, with Humphrey Bogart as P.I. Philip Marlowe, shows up on TV, I’m there!
So I had tremendous fun writing my own private eye, Nick Delaney, in this book. Of course, he required a heroine who was up to any challenge he might throw at her, so I created Lexie Foster, a woman intent on taking every advantage of the second chance she’s been given in life.
This is also the first time I’ve mixed a little mystery with my romance in a book. I hope you’ll enjoy the results.
I love to hear from readers. You can write me at P.O. Box 991, Bailey, CO, 80241, or e-mail me at Cindi@CindiMyers.com. And be sure to visit my Web site at www.CindiMyers.com for all the latest news.
Until next time…
Cindi Myers
No Regrets
Cindi Myers
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For Diane and Mike
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
1
SOME PEOPLE THINK LIFE is full of second chances. But the way Lexie Foster saw it, do-overs didn’t come around that often. When you got the chance for one, you’d better grab it and make it good.
Or so Lexie tried to explain to her best friend, Candace French, as they lingered over frozen macchiatos on a mid-June afternoon in the coffee shop of the building where they worked in downtown Denver.
Where Lexie used to work, that is.
“Call me dense, but I’m just not getting this,” Candace said as she stabbed a straw into her drink. “Your first day back at work since the accident and you quit? Why?”
“I never liked working at Culpepper and Piper.” Lexie took a long pull on the macchiato, savoring the rich caramel and coffee flavor. She’d never really appreciated things like good coffee drinks before, but those days were over. “I’ve wasted too much time already in that dead-end job,” she explained. “The accident taught me that life is too precious to waste a second of it.”
She didn’t remember much about the accident itself, but the feelings surrounding the night lingered: the heart-stopping terror as she felt her car begin to slide on the icy road and watched it hurtle toward the guardrail; the confusion as she tried to see the ambulance lights pulsing somewhere to her left through a haze of blood, garbled voices shouting unintelligible words; the bleakness that washed over her upon waking in the stark white world of the hospital, unable to move; the incredible joy when they’d released her restraints and she’d discovered she would fully recover; the desire to get out into the world and experience everything that had consumed her during almost six months of rehab.
She sucked up more of the macchiato with a satisfying slurp and looked at Candace. “I’m going to do all the things I was too timid or busy or lazy to do before.”
Candace looked skeptical. “What kind of things?”
“I’ve made a list.” Lexie opened her purse and pulled out the little red leather notebook she’d bought especially for this purpose. “I’ve written one hundred things I intend to accomplish.”
Candace opened the book and scanned the first page. “Have affairs with at least six men before I’m thirty?” Her eyes widened. “That’s only three years.”
Lexie flushed. “That’s one every six months.”
“You haven’t had that many relationships in six years. Have you?”
She shook her head. “That’s the whole point. I’m not going to live the way I did before.” The “old” Lexie had been conventional, conservative and too concerned about what other people thought of her to take many chances. The “new” Lexie reasoned that life was too short to let anyone else’s rules dictate how she should live.
“But six? Don’t you think that’s a little ambitious? Maybe you should start slowly and work up.”
She smiled. “You haven’t read the rest of the list.”
Candace flipped through the book, her eyes widening as she read. “What? You can’t be serious.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve always thought of you as, well, conservative. Reserved.”
“I was. I’m not going to be that way anymore.”
Candace cleared her throat and glanced at the book again. “Have sex in a public place? Do something kinky?” She fanned herself. “That must have been some near-death experience.”
Lexie shifted in her chair. “Those are fantasies. Don’t you have fantasies?”
“Yes, but I don’t write them down and set out to make them come true.”
“Then maybe you should.”
Candace returned the book to Lexie. “Maybe you’re right. And it sounds like you’re going to have a lot of fun. But what does this have to do with quitting your job?”
She tapped the cover of the book. “Number four on the list—no more settling for boring and conventional just because it’s convenient. I’m going to find a better job. One that’s more exciting, or at least interesting.”
“Such as?”
“I saw this ad in the Sunday paper. It’s perfect.” She took out the clipping from the Denver Post and showed it to Candace.
“Private detective seeks administrative assistant. Must be organized, computer literate and have superior phone skills.” Candace frowned and returned the clipping to Lexie. “It’s still a secretary. It’ll probably turn out to be just as boring as what you’re doing now. And not as well-paid.”
Lexie shrugged. “If I don’t like it, I’ll find something else. Number eighteen on the list.”
“Which is?”
“Embrace change as good.”
“Uh-huh. Then what about ditching the scarves?”
Lexie touched the paisley silk scarf knotted at her neck. “I will. I’m just waiting for the scars to fade a little more.”
Candace shook her head. “They’re not that bad.”
Lexie made a face. “They look pretty awful to me.” The doctors had to insert a breathing tube in her throat to save her. That and the surgery to repair the resulting hole had left scars that stood out white against her olive skin. Every time she looked in the mirror she cringed.
“So what about all these men you’re going to have affairs with?” Candace asked. “Are you going to keep your neck covered while you’re making love? Or turn out all the lights?”
“It won’t matter so much with them. I’ll have my mind on other things.” At least she hoped that would be the case.
“Where are you going to find these men?” Candace asked.
“They’re everywhere.” Lexie smiled. “I’m sure I won’t have any trouble finding them.”
“No, you won’t.” She leaned over and patted Lexie’s hand. “I’m really proud of you. You go. Wow ’em all.”
Lexie tried to look more confident than she felt. It was one thing to sit at home at night and conjure up all these fantasies, quite another to go out and make them into reality. But she’d promised herself she’d do this. Almost dying had made her see how much she’d cheated herself by always playing it safe. Time to take a few chances and really live.
NICK DELANEY GROANED and leaned back in his chair after interviewing yet another ditzy young woman who chewed gum the entire time and appeared incapable of alphabetizing correctly. That’s what he got for expecting to find a competent assistant on the salary he could afford.
He shifted his gaze to the stack of mail on the corner of his desk. Bills, mostly. Some junk mail. Maybe even a new client or two, but between working cases and trying to find someone to help him in the office, he hadn’t time to read his mail. Every day he didn’t have an assistant was a day he was likely losing money.
A knock on the door reminded him he had more interviews to conduct. He only hoped one of these applicants was at least mildly qualified. “Come in,” he called, sitting up straight.
A looker in a black skirt and sleeveless purple blouse walked in. She had short dark hair, and wore expensive-looking gold earrings and a black silk scarf knotted at her throat. The impression she gave was a combination of sophistication and sexiness—a definite cut above the candidates he’d seen so far.
He rose to greet her, his gaze dropping to her legs, which were long and sleek. Very nice. But could she handle a computer?
He offered his hand. “I’m Nick Delaney. And you are?”
“Lexie Foster.” She sat in the chair across the desk and crossed her legs at the ankles. She wore ankle-strap high heels, a particular favorite of his.
He cleared his throat and focused his attention on the résumé she’d slid across the desk. He hadn’t been in Denver long enough to start dating anyone, but clearly he was overdue for some female companionship. His ex-wife had rid him of the idea of wasting his time on anything long-term, but there was a lot to be said for momentary gratification. A good lay might help him keep his mind out of the gutter and on his work.
His eyebrows rose as he read Lexie’s résumé. If everything on here was true, she was more than qualified for the position. “This says you’re currently employed at Culpepper and Piper.”
She nodded. “Yes. I’ve been with them for five years.”
He didn’t know a lot about the company, but you couldn’t miss their imposing glass-and-steel headquarters downtown. They were a high-tech success story, and reportedly one of the top-rated employers in Denver. “Why are you thinking of leaving them?”
She smiled, brown eyes dancing with amusement, as if she were in on some private joke. “I’m looking for more interesting work.”
Ah. He’d heard that one before. He folded his hands and gave her a hard look. “People think P.I. work is interesting. It’s not. It’s deadly dull. I need someone to answer the phone, file paperwork and maybe do background research for civil suits, divorce cases, insurance scams, things like that. Nothing exciting.”
He was purposely trying to intimidate her, but she wasn’t buying. She crossed her legs at the knee, giving him a look at a good six inches of firm thigh. He kept his expression neutral, but below the belt there was a definite response.
“Working for a large firm like Culpepper and Piper is very impersonal,” she said. “I’d enjoy the chance to work one-on-one in a small office.”
He shifted in his chair, thinking about the kind of “one-on-one” activities he obviously hadn’t enjoyed enough of lately. “You know I can’t afford to pay you what you’re making now.”
“That’s all right. I’m sure we can come to some agreement.”
Was she intentionally coming on to him, or was his horny imagination taking over? He studied her for clues, but she sat there, serene and perfectly relaxed, her posture almost prim, except for the short skirt and sexy shoes and the ends of the scarf trailing over her breast like a flag marking a hazard.
Working with her might be a hazard to his concentration. Then again, he was desperate for someone competent to help him in the office. He glanced at the stack of mail on the corner of his desk. Did he hire the only qualified person he’d interviewed so far who was willing to work for the salary he could afford, or did he waste more time trying to find someone else for the position?
