That might not have gone perfectly, she admitted. But she wasn't about to give up. Not by a long shot. She had a primal guy right under her nose. She wasn't about to let him go.

Chapter Four.

A petri dish of testosterone.

Hell. Who did she think she was dealing with? Ben grumbled to himself as he left the kitchen. He wasn't some moron who would ever be on television. He wasn't interested in fifteen minutes of fame. He didn't want fame at all. Not to mention that appearing on some idiotic reality show wouldn't do a lot for his undercover work.

Since he told very few people that he was a cop, it made it a real pain in the ass trying to explain what he did when he dated a woman more than once. The import/export business was the best he had come up with. But the odd hours were hell on the dating life.

For now, it was easier not to get involved in anything long term. He enjoyed women, but he had no interest in getting close to any of them.

He hadn't taken more than a few aching steps when the doorbell rang. This time Julia didn't forget to answer. She passed him in the hall-giving him a quick glance like a predator sizing up its prey-before her low heels clicked on the entry hall floor.

As soon as she pulled open the door, he heard a familiar voice. Seconds later he saw one of his oldest friends from the force. They'd started in the undercover vice unit at the same time.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Ben said, standing straight and strong, making sure he didn't let on to the ache in his leg.

Jake "Tag" Taggart whistled. "I wouldn't be calling names if I were you. You look awful. Though nothing new there," the man laughed.

It had always been a running joke between them-the fact that women flocked to Ben when it was Tag who was constantly in search of a date. He was an incorrigible flirt. And while he was never short on dates, they didn't clamor after him like they did Ben.

"Yep," Tag teased his friend, "even shot, my main man Benny the Slash looks pretty much the same. Like hell."

Julia stood off to the side, and when her eyes met Ben's, she mouthed, Benny the Slash?

He wasn't about to tell her that it was his undercover nickname. She didn't know he was a cop, much less an undercover, as they said on the force.

He pointed to his eyebrow. "A few friends started calling me that because of the scar."

He had seen her look at it earlier, and he could see now that she thought the story made sense. She believed it. That was the thing about undercover work. A cop had to make the cover seem real-every piece of it- otherwise he was dead.

"What brings you this way?" Ben asked.

"Mmmm, something smells good," Jake said without remorse. He looked at Julia. "I'd love a cup of coffee."

"Hasn't anyone taught you manners, Tag?" Ben asked.

"I might say the same to you, Slash. You haven't even introduced me to the pretty lady."

Julia chuckled and stepped forward. "I was talking to Ben about things like manners." She extended her hand. "I'm Julia Boudreaux."

"Jake Taggart, and the pleasure is all mine."

Tag started to lean over and kiss her palm, but Ben shoved him back toward the kitchen. "Julia, you've got some coffee for this guy, right?"

Not only did she serve up coffee, but as soon as she had both men in the kitchen sitting at the table, she

set a new plate of eggs, bacon, hash browns, and sweet rolls in front of each of them.

As soon as she had freshened Ben's cup of coffee like a waitress, she headed for the door. "I'll leave you two to talk." '

Ben watched her go. So did Tag.

"Mmmm, mmmm," Tag said. "That is one mighty fine piece of-"

"Put a clamp on it, Tag. Keep your mind where it belongs."

Taggart swiveled in his chair. "Is it possible that the ever elusive Ben Prescott has got it bad for the

prim fluffcake?"

How to explain? She wasn't prim. She wasn't a fluffcake, either. He didn't even like her. But he really didn't like seeing his friend ogle her, either. Words failed him.

"Why are you here?" he asked instead. "And I take it you're my friend telling every skirt in town where

they can find me."

Tag smiled. "Had I known you were staying with one fine lady, I might have done things differently.

You should have given me more than the phone number here."

Ben had given him the phone number and address because he needed Tag to bring him a new cell phone

after his had been crushed in the confusion when he had been shot. Plus, he had wanted Tag to bring over his Range Rover. He wasn't allowed to drive yet, but he didn't like the idea of being stranded without transportation. He might have made a promise to Sterling to hang out here, but he sure as hell wasn't going to be without a car.

On cue, Tag extended the new phone and Ben's keys.

"Thanks," he said, meaning it.

The two men had been through a lot together. The fact that Tag had become the squad lieutenant over

all detectives hadn't come between them. When the brass had asked Ben to submit his name for promotion, he had declined. He had always wanted to be in the trenches. But that didn't mean he didn't understand his friend's desire for a more stable life. He was happy as hell for the guy.

Ben and Tag settled into a comfortable silence as they dug into their meals, both eating with the gusto of men who weren't worried about putting on pounds. Only minutes later they were done, sitting back and sighing their pleasure.

"She can cook," Tag said.

"Yeah." Ben tossed his napkin on the table. "So, how's it going?"

The smiling man grew serious. "A better question is, how's it going with you? Really."

Ben stretched out his leg as nonchalantly as possible. "I'm fine, Tag."

"You don't look so good. I worry."

"Don't. It was a flesh wound. No serious damage."

Tag studied him for a bit, then sighed. "I read the report."

"And?"

"I heard what happened in that backyard. The guy could have killed you. You shouldn't have gone after

him."

Ben still remembered the feeling of standing there, of the craziness that had consumed him, pushing him

on, making him push to the edge. But it had nearly worked, and it would have if he'd been able to get the gun that Nando had started to lower. Then he would have gotten answers, too. "I know Henry's death hit you hard. Losing your partner takes its toll. But you're a damn fine cop. One of the best. Don't let this ruin you. Don't let the force lose another man."

"I appreciate it, really. But I'm fine."

"The chief isn't so sure. He wants you to see Haiderman."

"The shrink?"

Tag shrugged. "I wanted to give you a heads-up. So if you don't want to spend a month with the guy,

you'd better get your act together."

Ben grumbled, then took another sip of his coffee. When he set the cup down, he asked, "Have you learned anything new about Henry? Did they find the punk who ran out of the building?" "No, we didn't find the guy. But the report is in. The night Henry was killed, there was no planned operation going down."

Realistically, if there had been one, Ben would have known. They were partners, after all. But he had

held out hope that Henry had caught a last-minute assignment Ben hadn't heard about. Tag just nixed that possibility. Ben didn't want to think about what that meant. Henry had been working on his own-working without boundaries.

"How did he know the deal was going down?" Ben asked.

"We think he was finding dealers on the Internet, if you can believe it."

"Why do you think that?"

"In the probe, Regar mentioned it. Said Henry had gone computer savvy and had told him he found his latest deal on a Web site, of all places. These dealers get more inventive by the day."

"Has anyone checked into it?"

"Yeah. Haven't found anything, though. I don't get this computer stuff, but the whiz kid down at the station took a look and said there was nothing on Henry's computer to give us any leads." Tag stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I was thinking that while you're laid up, you could do some surfing, see if you can find whatever it was Henry found."

"I'll need a computer."

Tag smiled. "I thought you might say that. It's in the Rover. I'll bring it in before I go."

Not long after that, Ben walked his longtime friend out to the SUV, refusing to show the pain he was in, retrieved the computer, then watched Tag get into an unmarked car whose driver had clearly followed him there. As soon as Tag was gone, Ben felt the last of his energy drain away.

With effort, he headed back to the guest room and booted up the laptop.

Julia worked through the morning, writing extensive notes on what she thought her show should entail. Making over bad boys was inspired. Which reminded her of Ben.

She hadn't heard a peep out of him since his friend left, and that had been hours ago.

The man called Tag had a dangerous look to him, and yet again Julia wondered what Ben did for a living. The import/export business? Other than his brief stint as a bodyguard of sorts for Chloe's television show, she hadn't seen him work at all. Not that he could get much done with a bullet wound to the thigh. But somehow the import/export business thing didn't seem right. Though maybe she was wrong and the business provided him with the sort of income that allowed for a sixty-thousand-dollar Range Rover and a leather jacket that hadn't come cheap. Then there was the possibility that Ben lived off his brother's largess.

But what Ben did or didn't do wasn't her concern. Feeding him was.

After making a quick lunch and putting it on a tray, she headed to Ben's room. A computer sat out on the desk, but he wasn't to be seen. She paused, wondered where he could be, and that's when she heard the rustling in the bathroom.

Oh, dear.

His door was open, and with a grimace, she took a step farther inside the room. She considered leaving the lunch and giving him his privacy. But when she leaned over and set down the tray on the desk, she caught sight of his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He stood at her marble sink counter, his blue cambric shirt unbuttoned and wrinkled, his jeans gone, the front of his Jockey briefs white against his skin. She could make out a hint of his strong thighs, and a hint of the dark hair that disappeared underneath an oversized white bandage. A tremor ran through her. Uneasiness mixing with a very hot longing.